THE  RIN 
OF  THE 
DESER1 


MBA 


THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 


••••     »••" 


He  worked  tirelessly,  as  though  he  was  determined  to  infuse  her 
numb  veins  with  his  own  vigor. 

Frontispiece.     See  Page  335. 


THE  RIM  OF 
THE  DESERT 


BY 


ADA  WOODRUFF  ANDERSON 

Author  of  "The  Strain  of  White,'*  <<The 
Heart  of  the  Red  Firs,'*  Etc. 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 

MONTE  CREWS 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1915 


Copyright,  igis. 
By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company. 


All  rights  reserved 


Published,  April,  191 5 
Kegrilitfcd,  ApriV  V)i  5^liir6e  times) 


S.  J.  Pabkhill  «b  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


To  the  Memory  of 

MY  MOTHER 

A  gentle  and  appreciative  critic,  the  only  one,  perhaps, 

who   re-read   my   previous   books   with  pleasure 

and  found  no  flaw  in  them,  and  who  would 

have  had   a   greater   interest  than   any 

other  in  this  publication. 


M13744 


FOREWORD 

The  desert  of  this  story  is  that  semi-arid  region  east 
of  the  upper  Columbia.  It  is  cut  off  from  the  moisture 
laden  winds  of  the  Pacific  by  the  lofty  summits  of  the 
Cascade  Mountains  which  form  its  western  rim,  and  for 
many  miles  the  great  river  crowds  the  barrier,  winding, 
breaking  in  rapids,  seeking  a  way  through.  To  one  ap- 
proaching this  rim  from  the  dense  forests  of  the  westward 
slopes,  the  sage  grown  levels  seem  to  stretch  limitless  into 
the  far  horizon,  but  they  are  broken  by  hidden  coulees ; 
in  propitious  seasons  reclaimed  areas  have  yielded  phe- 
nominal  crops  of  wheat,  and  under  irrigation  the  valley 
of  one  of  the  two  tributaries  from  the  west,  wherein  lies 
Hesperides  Vale,  has  become  a  garden  spot  of  the  world. 

To  the  initiated  I  wish  to  say  if  in  the  chapters  touch- 
ing on  the  Alaska  coal  cases  I  have  followed  too  literally 
the  statements  of  prominent  men,  it  was  not  in  an  effort 
to  portray  them  but  merely  to  represent  as  clearly  as 
possible  the  Alaska  situation. 

Ada  Woodeuff  Anderson. 


CONTENTS 


OHAFTEB  PAGE 

I  The  Man  Who  Never  Came  Back  ...        1 

II     The  Question 21 

III  Foster  Too 26 

IV  Snoqualmie  Pass  and  a  Broken  Axle     .      .     37 
V  Apples   op   Eden     ........     50 

VI     Nip  and  Tuck 65 

VII  A  Night  on  the  Mountain  Road     ...      82 

VIII  The  Bravest  Woman  He  Ever  Knew   .      .     97 

IX  The  Dunes  of  the  Columbia     .      .      .      .119 

X     A   Woman's   Heart-strings 130 

XI     The  Loophole 143 

XII  "Whom  the  Gods  Would  Destroy"     .      .159 

XIII  "A  Little  Streak  of  Luck"     .      .      .      .166 

XIV  On   Board   the   Aquila 174 

XV  The  Story  of  the  Tenas  Papoose   .      .      .182 

XVI     The  Alternative 200 

XVII  "  All  These  Things  Will  I  Give  Thee  "     .   205 

XVIII     The  Option 219 

XIX  Lucky  Banks  and  the  Pink  Chiffon     .      .   229 

XX     Kernel  and  Peach 247 

XXI  Foster's  Hour    .........  261 

XXII     As  Man  to  Man 278 

XXIII     The  Day  of  Publication 287 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV  Snowbound  in  the  Rockies  and  **  Fit  as  a 

Moose  ** 291 

XXV     The  Ides  op  March 297 

XXVI     The  Everlasting  Door 305 

XXVII     Kismet.     An  Act  of  God 327 

XXVIII     Surrender .337 

XXIX  Back  to   Hesperides  Vale      .....   344* 

XXX     The  Junior  Defendant 361 

XXXI  TisDALE  OF  Alaska — and  Washington,  D.  C.  371 

XXXII     The  Other  Document 383 

XXXIII     The  Calf-bound  Notebook 388 


THE       ""-'"'" 

RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    MAN    WHO    NEVEE    CAME    BACK 

IT  is  in  October,  when  the  trails  over  the  wet  tundra 
harden,  and  before  the  ice  locks  Bering  Sea,  that  the 
Alaska  exodus  sets  towards  Seattle;  but  there  were  a  few 
members  of  the  Arctic  Circle  in  town  that  first  evening  in 
September  to  open  the  clubhouse  on  the  Lake  Boulevard 
with  an  informal  little  supper  for  special  delegate  Fever- 
sham,  who  had  arrived  on  the  steamer  from  the  north,  on 
his  way  to  Washington. 

The  clubhouse,  which  was  built  of  great,  hewn  logs,  with 
gabled  eaves,  stood  in  a  fringe  of  firs,  and  an  upper  rear 
balcony  afforded  a  broad  outlook  of  lake  and  forest,  with 
the  glaciered  heights  of  the  Cascade  Mountains  breaking 
a  far  horizon.  The  day  had  been  warm,  but  a  soft  breeze, 
drawing  across  this  veranda  through  the  open  door,  cooled 
the  assembly  room,  and,  lifting  one  of  the  lighter  hangings 
of  Indian-wrought  elk  leather,  found  the  stairs  and  raced 
with  a  gentle  rustle  through  the  lower  front  entrance  back 
into  the  night.  It  had  caressed  many  familiar  things  on 
its  way,  for  the  walls  were  embellished  with  trophies  from 
the  big  spaces  where  winds  are  bom.  There  were  skins  of 
polar  and  Kodiak  bear;  of  silver  and  black  fox;  there 


2  THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

were  antlered  heads  set  above  the  fireplace  and  on  the 
rough,  bark-seamed  pillars  that  supported  the  unceiled 
roof..  .A  frieze  of.pressed  and  framed  Alaska  flora  finished 
the  low  gallerj'  which  extended  around  three  sides  of  the 
hp]],  and  the  massive  chairs,  like  the  polished  banquet 
board,  were  of  crocus-yellow  Alaska  cedar. 

The  delegate,  who  had  come  out  to  tide-water  over  the 
Fairbanks-Valdez  trail,  was  describing  with  considerable 
heat  the  rigors  of  the  journey.  The  purple  parka,  which 
was  the  regalia  of  the  Circle,  seemed  to  increase  his  promi- 
nence of  front  and  intensified  the  color  in  his  face  to  a 
sort  of  florid  ripeness. 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,"  he  continued,  thumping  the  table 
with  a  stout  hand  and  repeating  the  gesture  slowly,  while 
the  glasses  trembled,  "  Alaska's  crying  need  is  a  railroad ; 
a  single  finished  line  from  the  most  northern  harbor  open 
to  navigation  the  whole  year  —  and  that  is  Prince  William 
Sound  —  straight  through  to  the  Tanana  Valley  and  the 
upper  Yukon.  Already  the  first  problem  has  been  solved ; 
we  have  pierced  the  icy  barrier  of  the  Coast  Range.  All 
we  are  waiting  for  is  further  right  of  way;  the  right  to 
the  forests,  that  timber  may  be  secured  for  construction 
work;  the  right  to  mine  coal  for  immediate  use.  But, 
gentlemen,  we  may  grow  gray  waiting.  What  do  men  four 
thousand  miles  away,  men  who  never  saw  Alaska,  care 
about  our  needs  ?  "  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  while  his 
glance  moved  from  face  to  face  and  rested,  half  in  chal- 
lenge, on  the  member  at  the  foot  of  the  board.  "  These 
commissioners  appointed  off^  there  in  Washington,"  he 
added.  "  These  carpet-baggers  from  the  little  States  be- 
yond the  Mississippi ! " 

Hollis  Tisdale,  who  had  spent  some  of  the  hardest  years 
of  his  Alaska  career  in  the  service  of  the  Government,  met 
the  delegate's  look  with  a  quiet  humor  in  his  eyes. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  and  his  deep,  expressive  voice 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK  3 

instantly  held  the  attention  of  every  one,  "  that  such  a 
man,  with  intelligence  and  insight,  of  course,  stands  the 
surest  chance  of  giving  general  satisfaction  in  the  end. 
He  is  at  least  disinterested,  while  the  best  of  us,  no 
matter  how  big  he  is,  how  clear-visioned,  is  bound  to  take 
his  own  district  specially  to  heart.  Prince  William  Sound 
alone  has  hundreds  of  miles  of  coast-line  and  includes  more 
than  one  fine  harbor  with  an  ambitious  seaport." 

At  this  a  smile  rippled  around  the  table,  and  Miles 
Feversham,  who  was  the  attorney  for  one  of  the  most 
ambitious  syndicates  of  promoters  in  the  north,  gave  his 
attention  to  the  menu.  But  Tisdale,  having  spoken, 
turned  his  face  to  the  open  balcony  door.  His  parka  was 
thrown  back,  showing  an  incongruous  breadth  of  stiff 
white  bosom,  yet  he  was  the  only  man  present  who  wore 
the  garment  with  grace.  In  that  moment  the  column  of 
throat  rising  from  the  purple  folds,  the  upward,  listen- 
ing pose  of  the  fine  head,  in  relief  against  the  bearskin  on 
the  wall  behind  his  chair,  suggested  a  Greek  medallion. 
His  brown  hair,  close-cut,  waved  at  the  temples ;  lines  were 
chiseled  at  the  comers  of  his  eyes  and,  with  a  lighter 
touch,  about  his  mouth;  yet  his  face,  his  whole  compact, 
muscular  body,  gave  an  impression  of  youth, —  youth  and 
power  and  the  capacity  for  great  endurance.  His  friends 
said  the  north  never  had  left  a  mark  of  its  grip  on  Tis- 
dale. The  life  up  there  that  had  scarred,  crippled, 
wrecked  most  of  them  seemed  only  to  have  mellowed  him. 

"  But,"  resumed  Feversham  quickly,  "  I  shall  make  a 
stiff  fight  at  Washington ;  I  shall  force  attention  to  our 
suspended  land  laws;  demand  the  rights  the  United  States 
allows  her  western  territories;  I  shall  ask  for  the  same 
concessions  that  were  the  making  of  the  Oregon  country ; 
and  first  and  last  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  loosen  the  stran- 
gling clutch  of  Conservation."  He  paused,  while  his 
hand  fell  still  more  heavily  on  the  table,  and  the  glasses 


4         THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

jingled  anew.  "  And,  gentlemen,  the  day  of  the  floating 
population  is  practically  over;  we  have  our  settled  com- 
munities, our  cities;  we  are  ready  for  a  legislative  body 
of  our  own ;  the  time  has  come  for  Home  Rule.  But  the 
men  who  make  our  laws  must  be  familiar  with  the  coun- 
try, have  allied  interests.  Gentlemen," —  his  voice,  drop- 
ping its  aggressive  tone,  took  a  honeyed  insistence, — 
"  we  want  in  our  first  executive  a  man  who  knows  us  in- 
timately, who  has  covered  our  vast  distances,  whose  vision 
has  broadened ;  a  man  big  enough  to  hold  the  welfare  of 
all  Alaska  at  heart." 

The  delegate  finished  this  period  with  an  all-embracing 
smile  and,  nodding  gently,  leaned  back  again  in  his  chair. 
But  in  the  brief  silence  that  followed,  he  experienced  a 
kind  of  shock.  Foster,  the  best  known  mining  engineer 
from  Prince  William  Sound  to  the  Tanana,  had  turned 
his  eyes  on  Tisdale;  and  Banks,  Lucky  Banks,  who  had 
made  the  rich  strike  in  the  Iditarod  wilderness,  also  looked 
that  way.  Then  instantly  their  thought  was  telegraphed 
from  face  to  face.  When  Feversham  allowed  his  glance 
to  follow  the  rest,  it  struck  him  as  a  second  shock  that 
Tisdale  was  the  only  one  on  whom  the  significance  of  the 
moment  was  lost. 

The  interval  passed.  Tisdale  stirred,  and  his  glance, 
coming  back  from  the  door,  rested  on  a  dish  that  had  been 
placed  before  him.  "  Japanese  pheasant !  "  he  exclaimed. 
The  mellowness  glowed  in  his  face.  He  lifted  his  eyes, 
and  the  delegate,  meeting  that  clear,  direct  gaze,  dropped 
his  own  to  his  plate.  "  Think  of  it !  Game  from  the 
other  side  of  the  Pacific.  They  look  all  right,  but  —  do 
you  know?" — the  lines  deepened  humorously  at  the  cor- 
ners of  his  mouth  — "  nothing  with  wings  ever  seems  quite 
as  fine  to  me  as  ptarmigan." 

"  Ptarmigan ! "  Feversham  suspended  his  fork  in  as- 
tonishment.    "  Not  ptarmigan?  " 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK  5 

"  Yes,"  persisted  Tisdale  gently,  "  ptarmigan ;  and  par- 
ticularly the  ones  that  nest  in  Nunatak  Arm." 

There  was  a  pause,  while  for  the  first  time  his  eyes  swept 
the  Circle.  He  still  held  the  attention  of  every  one,  but 
with  a  difference;  the  tenseness  had  given  place  to  a 
pleased  expectancy. 

Then  Foster  said :  "  That  must  have  been  on  some  trip 
you  made,  while  you  were  doing  geological  work  around 
St.  Elias." 

Tisdale  shook  his  head.  "  No,  it  was  before  that ;  the 
year  I  gave  up  Government  work  to  have  my  little  fling 
at  prospecting.  You  were  still  in  college.  Every  one 
was  looking  for  a  quick  route  to  the  Klondike  then,  and 
I  believed  if  I  could  push  through  the  Coast  Range  from 
Yakutat  Bay  to  the  valley  of  the  Alsek,  it  would  be 
smooth  going  straight  to  the  Yukon.  An  old  Indian  I 
talked  with  at  the  mission  told  me  he  had  made  it  once  on  a 
hunting  trip,  and  Weatherbee  —  you  all  remember  David 
Weatherbee  —  was  eager  to  try  it  with  me.  The  Tlinket 
helped  us  with  the  outfit,  canoeing  around  the  bay  and  up 
into  the  Arm  to  his  starting  point  across  Nunatak  glacier. 
But  it  took  all  three  of  us  seventy-two  days  to  pack  the 
year's  supplies  over  the  ice.  We  tramped  back  and  forth 
in  stages,  twelve  hundred  miles.  We  hadn't  been  able  to 
get  dogs,  and  in  the  end,  when  winter  overtook  us  in  thej 
mountains,  we  cached  the  outfit  and  came  out." 

"And  never  went  back."  Banks  laughed,  a  shrill, 
mirthless  laugh,  and  added  in  a  higher  key:  "Lost  a 
whole  year  and  —  the  outfit." 

Tisdale  nodded  slowly.  "  All  we  gained  was  experience. 
We  had  plenty  of  that  to  invest  the  next  venture  over  the 
mountains  from  Prince  William  Sound.  But  —  do  you 
know?  —  I  always  liked  that  little  canoe  trip  around  from 
Yakutat.  I  can't  tell  you  how  fine  it  is  in  that  upper 
fiord ;  big  peaks  and  ice  walls  growing  all  around.     Yes  " 


6  THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

—  he  nodded  again,  while  the  genial  wrinkles  deepened  — 
"  I've  seen  mountains  grow.  We  had  a  shock  once  that 
raised  the  coast-line  forty-five  feet.  And  another  time, 
while  we  were  going  back  to  the  village  for  a  load,  a  small 
glacier  in  a  hanging  valley  high  up,  perhaps  two  thousand 
feet,  toppled  right  out  of  its  cradle  into  the  sea.  It 
stirred  things  some  and  noise  " —  he  shook  his  head  with 
an  expressive  sound  that  ended  in  a  hissing  whistle. 
"  But  it  missed  the  canoe,  and  the  wave  it  made  lifted  us 
and  set  us  safe  on  top  of  a  little  rocky  island."  He 
paused  again,  laughing  softly.  "  I  don't  know  how  we 
kept  right  side  up,  but  we  did.  Weatherbee  was  great  in 
an  emergency." 

A  shadow  crossed  his  face.  He  looked  off  to  the  end  of 
the  room. 

"  I  guess  you  both  understood  a  canoe,"  said  Banks. 
His  voice  was  still  high-pitched,  like  that  of  a  man  under 
continued  stress,  and  his  eyes  burned  in  his  withered, 
weather-beaten  face  like  the  vents  of  buried  fires.  "  But 
likely  it  was  then,  while  you  was  freighting  the  outfit 
around  to  the  glacier,  you  came  across  those  ptarmigan." 

Tisdale's  glance  returned,  and  the  humor  played  again 
softly  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  "  I  had  forgotten  about 
those  birds.  It  was  this  way.  I  made  the  last  trip  in  the 
canoe  alone,  for  the  mail  and  a  small  load,  principally  am- 
munition and  clothing,  while  Weatherbee  and  the  Tlinket 
pushed  ahead  on  one  of  those  interminable  stages  over  the 
glacier.  And  on  the  way  back,  I  was  caught  in  fog. 
It  rolled  in,  layer  on  layer,  while  I  felt  for  the  landing; 
but  I  managed  to  find  the  place  and  picked  up  the  trail  we 
had  worn  packing  over  the  ice.  And  I  lost  it ;  probably  in 
a  new  thaw  that  had  opened  and  glazed  over  since  I  left. 
Anyhow,  in  a  little  while  I  didn't  know  where  I  was.  I 
had  given  my  compass  to  Weatherbee,  and  there  was  no 
sun  to  take  bearings   from,  not   a  landmark  in   sight. 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK      7 

Nothing  but  fog  and  ice,  and  it  all  looked  alike.  The 
surface  was  too  hard  to  take  my  impressions,  so  I  wasn't 
able  to  follow  my  own  tracks  back  to  the  landing.  But 
I  had  to  keep  moving,  it  was  so  miserably  cold;  I  hardly 
let  myself  rest  at  night ;  and  that  fog  hung  on  five  days. 
The  third  evening  I  found  myself  on  the  water-front,  and 
pretty  soon  I  stumbled  on  my  canoe.  I  was  down  to  a 
mighty  small  allowance  of  crackers  and  cheese  then,  but  I 
parcelled  it  out  in  rations  for  three  days  and  started  once 
more  along  the  shore  for  Yakutat.  The  next  night  I  was 
traveling  by  a  sort  of  sedge  when  I  heard  ptarmigan.  It 
sounded  good  to  me,  and  I  brought  my  canoe  up  and 
stepped  out.  I  couldn't  see,  but  I  could  hear  those  birds 
stirring  and  cheeping  all  around.  I  lay  down  and  lifted 
my  gun  ready  to  take  the  first  that  came  between  me  and 
the  sky."  His  voice  had  fallen  to  an  undernote,  and  his 
glance  rested  an  absent  moment  on  the  circle  of  light  on 
the  rafter  above  an  electric  lamp.  "  When  it  did,  and  I 
blazed,  the  whole  flock  rose.  I  winged  two.  I  had  to 
grope  for  them  in  the  reeds,  but  I  found  them,  and  I  made 
a  little  fire  and  cooked  one  of  them  in  a  tin  pail  I  carried 
in  the  canoe.  But  when  I  had  finished  that  supper  and 
pushed  off  —  do  you  know.?  — "  his  look  returned,  moving 
humorously  from  face  to  face  — "  I  was  hungrier  than  I 
had  been  before.  And  I  just  paddled  back  and  cooked  the 
other  one." 

There  was  a  stir  along  the  table;  a  sighing  breath. 
Then  some  one  laughed,  and  Banks  piped  his  strained  note. 
"  And,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "  of  course  you  kept  on 
to  that  missionary  camp  and  waited  for  the  fog  to  lift." 

Tisdale  shook  his  head.  "  After  that  supper,  there 
wasn't  any  need ;  I  turned  back  to  the  glacier.  And  before 
I  reached  the  landing,  I  heard  Weatherbee's  voice  booming 
out  on  the  thick  silence  like  a  siren  at  sea;  piloting  me 
straight  to  that  one  dip  in  the  ice-wall." 


8  THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

He  looked  off  again  to  the  end  of  the  room,  absently, 
with  the  far-sighted  gaze  of  one  accustomed  to  travel 
great  solitudes.  It  was  as  though  he  heard  again  that 
singing  voice.  Then  suddenly  his  expression  changed. 
His  eyes  had  rested  on  a  Kodiak  bearskin  that  hung 
against  a  pillar  at  the  top  of  the  gallery  steps.  The  cor- 
ner was  unlighted,  in  heavy  shadow,  but  a  hand  reaching 
from  behind  had  drawn  the  rug  slightly  aside,  and  its  white- 
ness on  the  brown  fur,  the  flash  of  a  jewelled  ring,  caught 
his  attention.  The  next  moment  the  hand  was  withdrawn. 
He  gave  it  no  more  thought  then,  but  a  time  came  after- 
ward when  he  remembered  it. 

"  Weatherbee  had  noticed  that  fog-bank,"  he  went  on, 
"  from  high  up  the  glacier.  It  worried  him  so  he  finally 
turned  back  to  meet  me,  and  he  had  waited  so  long  he  was 
down  to  his  last  biscuit.  I  was  mighty  reckless  about  that 
second  ptarmigan,  but  the  water  the  birds  were  cooked  in 
made  a  fine  soup.  And  the  fog  broke,  and  we  overtook  the 
Tlinket  and  supplies  the  next  morning." 

There  was  another  stir  along  the  table,  then  Foster 
said :  "  That  was  a  great  voice  of  Weatherbee's.  I've 
seen  it  hearten  a  whole  crowd  on  a  mean  trail,  like  the 
bugle  and  fife  of  a  regiment." 

"  So  have  I."  It  was  Lucky  Banks  who  spoke,  "  So 
have  I.  And  Weatherbee  was  always  ready  to  stand  by  a 
poor  devil  in  a  tight  place.  When  the  frost  got  me  " — 
he  held  up  a  crippled  and  withered  hand  — '*  it  was  Dave 
Weatherbee  who  pulled  me  through.  We  were  mushing  it 
on  the  same  stampede  from  Fairbanks  to  Ruby  Creek, 
and  he  never  had  seen  me  before.  It  had  come  to  the  last 
day,  and  we  were  fighting  it  out  in  the  teeth  of  a  blizzard. 
You  all  know  what  that  means.  In  the  end  we  just  kept 
the  trail,  following  the  hummocks.  Sometimes  it  was  a 
pack  under  a  drift,  or  maybe  a  sled ;  and  sometimes  it  was 
a  hand  reaching  up  through  the  snow,  frozen  stiff.     Then 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK     9 

it  came  mj  turn,  and  I  lay  down  in  my  tracks.  But 
Weatherbee  stopped  to  work  over  me.  He  wouldn't  go 
on.  He  said  if  I  was  determined  to  stay  in  that  cemet'ry, 
I  could  count  on  his  company.  And  when  he  got  me  on  my 
feet,  he  just  started  '  Dixie,'  nice  and  lively,  and  the  next 
I  knew  he  had  me  all  wound  up  and  set  going  again,  good 
as  new." 

His  laugh,  like  the  treble  notes  of  the  Arctic  wind,  gave 
an  edge  to  the  story. 

Presently  Foster  said :  "  That  was  Weatherbee ;  I  never 
knew  another  such  man.  Always  effacing  himself  when  it 
came  to  a  choice ;  always  ready  to  share  a  good  thing. 
Why,  he  made  some  of  his  friends  rich,  and  yet  in  the  end, 
after  seven  years  of  it,  seven  years  of  struggle  of  the 
worst  kind,  what  did  he  have  to  show  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  Foster ;  nothing  but  seven  feet  of  earth  up 
there  on  the  edge  of  the  wilderness."  Tisdale's  voice  vi- 
brated gently;  an  emotion  like  the  surface  stir  of  shaken 
depths  crossed  his  face.  "  And  a  tract  of  unimproved 
desert  down  here  in  eastern  Washington,"  he  added. 

"  And  Mrs.  Weatherbee,"  supplemented  Feversham 
quickly.  "  You  mustn't  forget  her.  Any  man  must  have 
counted  such  a  wife  his  most  valuable  asset.  Here's  to 
her!  Young,  charming,  clever;  a  typical  American 
beauty !  "  He  stopped  to  drain  his  glass,  then  went  on. 
"  I  remember  the  day  Weatherbee  sailed  for  Alaska.  I 
was  taking  the  same  steamer,  and  she  was  on  the  dock,  with 
all  Seattle,  to  see  the  Argonauts  away.  It  was  a  hazard- 
ous journey  into  the  Unknown  in  those  days,  and  scenes 
were  going  on  all  around  —  my  own  wife  was  weeping  on 
my  shoulder  —  but  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  and  she  had  just 
been  married  then,  bridged  the  parting  like  a  little  trump. 
'  Well,  David,'  she  said,  with  a  smile  to  turn  a  priest's  head, 
*  good-by  and  good  luck.  Come  back  when  you've  made 
your  fortune,  and  I'll  help  you  to  spend  it.' " 


10        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  delegate,  laughing  deeply,  reached  for  the  port  de- 
canter to  refill  his  glass.  No  one  else  saw  the  humor  of 
the  story,  though  the  man  with  the  maimed  hand  again 
gave  an  edge  to  the  silence  that  followed  with  his  strained, 
mirthless  laugh.  Presently  he  said :  "  But  he  never  came 
back." 

"  No."  It  was  Foster  who  answered.  "  No,  but  he  was 
on  his  way  out  to  the  States  at  last,  when  the  end  came. 
I  don't  understand  it.  It  seems  incredible  that  Weather- 
bee,  who  had  won  through  so  many  times,  handicapped  by 
the  waifs  and  strays  of  the  trail, —  Weatherbee,  to  whom 
the  Susitna  country  was  an  open  scroll, —  should  have  per- 
ished as  he  did.  But  it, was  you  who  found  him,  HoUis. 
Come,  tell  us  all  about  it." 

Tisdale  shook  his  head.  "  Some  other  time,  Foster. 
It's  a  long  story  and  not  the  kind  to  tell  here." 

"  Go  on !  Go  on !  "  The  urging  came  from  many,  and 
Banks  added  in  his  high,  tense  key :  "  I  guess  we  can  stand 
it.  Most  of  us  saw  the  iron  side  of  Alaska  before  we  saw 
the  golden." 

"  Well,  then,"  Tisdale  began  reluctantly,  "  I  must  take 
you  back  a  year.  I  was  completing  trail  reconnaissance 
from  the  new  Alaska  Midway  surveys  in  the  Susitna  Valley, 
through  Rainy  Pass,  to  connect  with  the  mail  route  from 
the  interior  to  Nome,  and,  to  avoid  returning  another 
season,  kept  my  party  late  in  the  field.  It  was  the  close  of 
September  when  we  struck  Seward  Peninsula  and  miser- 
ably cold,  with  gales  sweeping  in  from  Bering  Sea.  The 
grass  had  frozen,  and  before  we  reached  a  cache  of  oats  I 
had  relied  on,  most  of  our  horses  perished;  we  arrived  at 
Nome  too  late  for  the  last  steamer  of  the  year.  That  is 
how  I  came  to  winter  there,  and  why  a  letter  Weatherbee 
had  written  in  October  was  so  long  finding  me.  It  was  for- 
warded from  Seattle  with  other  mail  I  cabled  for,  back  to 
Prince  William  Sound,  over  the  Fairbanks-Valdez  trail,  and 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK     11 

out  again  by  the  winter  route  three  thousand  miles  to 
Nome.  It  was  the  middle  of  March  when  I  received  it,  and 
he  had  asked  me  to  buy  his  half  interest  in  the  Aurora 
mine.     He  needed  the  money  to  go  out  to  the  States." 

Tisdale's  voice  broke  a  little ;  and  for  a  moment  he  looked 
off  through  the  open  door.  "  Perhaps  some  of  you  remem- 
ber I  grub-staked  him  for  a  half  share  when  he  left  the 
Tanana  to  prospect  down  along  the  Alaska  Range.  After 
he  located,  I  forwarded  him  small  amounts  several  times  to 
carry  on  development  work.  I  never  had  been  on  the 
ground,  but  he  explained  he  was  handicapped  by  high  water 
and  was  trying  to  divert  the  channel  of  a  creek.  In  that 
last  letter  he  said  he  had  carried  the  scheme  nearly 
through ;  the  next  season  would  pay  my  money  back  and 
more ;  the  Aurora  would  pan  out  the  richest  strike  he  had 
ever  made.  But  that  did  not  trouble  me.  I  knew  if 
Weatherbee  had  spent  two  years  on  that  placer,  the  gravels 
had  something  to  show.  The  point  that  weighed  was  that 
he  was  willing  to  go  home  at  last  to  the  States.  I  had 
urged  him  before  I  put  up  the  grub-stake,  but  he  had  an- 
swered :  '  Not  until  I  have  made  good.'  It  was  hardly 
probable  that,  failing  to  hear  from  me,  he  had  sold  out  to 
any  one  else.  From  his  description,  the  Aurora  was  iso- 
lated ;  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  new  Iditarod  camp ;  he 
hadn't  a  neighbor  in  fifty  miles.  So  I  forwarded  his  price 
and  arranged  with  the  mail  carrier  to  send  a  special  mes- 
senger on  from  the  nearest  post.  In  the  letter  I  wrote  to 
explain  my  delay,  I  sketched  a  plan  of  my  summer's  work 
and  told  him  how  sorry  I  was  I  had  missed  seeing  him  while 
the  party  was  camped  below  Rainy  Pass.  Though,  I 
couldn't  have  spared  the  time  to  go  to  the  Aurora,  he  might 
have  found  me,  had  I  sent  an  Indian  with  word.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  had  gone  through  his  orbit  without  letting 
him  know, 

"  But  after  that  carrier  had  gone,  Weatherbee's  letter 


12        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

kept  worrying  me.  It  wasn't  like  him  to  complain,  yet  he 
had  written  he  was  tired  of  the  eternal  winters ;  he  couldn't 
stand  those  everlasting  snow  peaks  sometimes,  they  got  to 
crowding  him  so;  they  kept  him  awake  when  he  needed 
sleep,  threatening  him.  '  I've  got  to  break  away  from  them, 
Hollis,'  he  said,  '  and  get  where  it's  warm  once  more ;  and 
when  my  blood  begins  to  thaw,  I'll  show  you  I  can  make 
a  go  of  things.'  Then  he  reminded  me  of  the  land  he 
owned  down  here  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Cascade 
Mountains.  The  soil  was  the  finest  volcanic  ash ;  the  kind 
that  grew  the  vineyards  on  Vesuvius,  and  he  meant  to  plant 
it  with  grapes;  with  orchards,  too,  on  the  bench  levels. 
All  the  tract  needed  was  water,  but  there  was  a  natural 
reservoir  and  spring  on  a  certain  high  plateau  that  could 
be  easily  tapped  with  a  flume." 

Tisdale  paused  while  his  glance  moved  slowly,  singling 
out  those  who  had  known  Weatherbee.  A  great  gentle- 
ness rested  on  his  face,  and  when  he  went  on,  it  crept  like 
a  caress  through  his  voice.  "  Most  of  you  have  heard  him 
talk  about  that  irrigation  scheme;  some  of  you  have  seen 
those  plans  he  used  to  work  on,  long  Alaska  nights.  It 
was  his  dream  for  years.  He  went  north  in  the  beginning 
just  to  accumulate  capital  enough  to  swing  that  project. 
But  the  more  I  studied  that  letter,  the  more  confident  I 
was  he  had  stayed  his  limit ;  he  was  breaking,  and  he  knew 
it.  That  was  why  he  was  so  anxious  to  turn  the  Aurora 
over  to  me  and  get  to  the  States.  Finally  I  decided  to  go 
with  the  mail  carrier  and  on  to  the  mine.  If  Weatherbee 
was  still  there,  as  I  believed,  we  would  travel  to  Fairbanks 
together  and  take  the  Valdez  trail  out  to  the  open  harbor 
on  Prince  William  Sound.  I  picked  up  a  team  of  eight 
good  huskies  —  the  weather  was  clear  with  a  moon  in  her 
second  quarter  —  and  I  started  light,  cutting  my  stops 
short ;  but  when  I  left  Nome  I  had  lost  four  days." 

Hollis    paused    another    Interval,    looking    off    again 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK     13 

through  the  open  door,  while  the  far-sighted  expression 
gathered  in  his  eyes.  It  was  as  though  his  listeners  also 
in  that  moment  saw  those  white  solitudes  stretching  limit- 
less under  the  Arctic  night. 

'*  I  never  caught  up  with  that  carrier,"  he  went  on, 
"  and  the  messenger  he  sent  on  broke  trail  for  me  all  the 
way  to  the  Aurora.  I  met  him  on  his  return  trip,  thirty 
hours  out  from  the  mine.  But  he  had  found  Weatherbee 
there,  and  had  a  deed  for  me  which  David  had  asked  him 
to  see  recorded  and  forwarded  to  me  at  Nome.  It  was  a 
relief  to  hear  he  had  been  able  to  attend  to  these  business 
matters,  but  I  wondered  why  he  had  not  brought  the  deed 
himself,  since  he  must  come  that  way  to  strike  the  Fair- 
banks trail,  and  why  the  man  had  not  waited  to  travel 
with  him.  Then  he  told  me  Weatherbee  had  decided  to 
use  the  route  I  had  sketched  in  my  letter.  The  messenger 
had  tried  to  dissuade  him ;  he  had  reminded  him  there  were 
no  road-houses,  and  that  the  traces  left  by  my  party  must 
have  been  wiped  out  by  the  winter  snows.  But  Weather- 
bee argued  that  the  new  route  would  shorten  the  distance 
to  open  tide-water  hundreds  of  miles ;  that  his  nearest 
neighbors  were  in  that  direction,  fifty  miles  to  the  south ; 
and  they  would  let  him  have  dogs.  Then,  when  he  struck 
the  Susitna  Valley,  he  would  have  miles  of  railroad  bed  to 
ease  the  last  stage.  So,  at  the  time  the  messenger  left 
the  Aurora,  Weatherbee  started  south  on  his  long  trek 
to  Rainy  Pass.  He  was  mushing  afoot,  with  Tyee  pull- 
ing the  sled.  Some  of  you  must  remember  that  big  husky 
with  a  strain  of  St.  Bernard  he  used  to  drive  on  the  Ta- 
nana." 

"  My,  yes,"  piped  little  Banks,  and  his  eyes  scintillated 
like  chippings  of  blue  glacier  ice.  "  Likely  I  do  remember 
Tyee.  Dave  picked  him  up  that  same  trip  he  set  me  on 
my  feet.  He  found  him  left  to  starve  on  the  trail  with  a 
broken  leg.     And  he  camped  right  there,  pitched  his,  tent 


14        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

for  a  hospital,  and  went  to  whittling  splints  out  of  a  piece 
of  willow  to  set  that  bone.  '  I  am  sorry  to  keep  you  wait- 
ing,' he  says  to  me,  '  but  he  is  a  mighty  good  dog.  He 
would  have  done  his  level  best  to  see  the  man  who  deserted 
him  through.'  And  he  would.  I'd  bank  my  money  on  old 
T^ee." 

Tisdale  nodded  slowly.  "  But  my  chance  to  overtake 
David  was  before  he  secured  that  team  fifty  miles  on. 
And  I  pushed  my  dogs  too  hard.  When  I  reached  the 
Aurora,  they  were  nearly  done  for.  I  was  forced  to  rest 
them  a  day.  That  gave  me  time  to  look  into  Weatherbee's 
work.  I  found  that  the  creek  where  he  had  made  his  dis- 
covery ran  through  a  deep  and  narrow  canyon,  and  it  was 
clear  to  me  that  the  boxed  channel,  which  was  frozen  solid 
then,  was  fed  during  the  short  summer  by  a  small  glacier 
at  the  top  of  the  gorge.  To  turn  the  high  water  from  his 
placer,  he  had  made  a  bore  of  nearly  one  thousand  feet 
and  practically  through  rock.  I  followed  a  bucket  tram- 
way he  had  rigged  to  lift  the  dump  and  found  a  primitive 
lighting-plant  underground.  The  whole  tunnel  was  com- 
pleted, with  the  exception  of  a  thin  wall  left  to  safeguard 
against  an  earlj^  thaw  in  the  stream,  while  the  bore  was 
being  equipped  with  a  five-foot  flume.  You  all  know  what 
that  means,  hundreds  of  miles  from  navigation  or  a  main 
traveled  road.  To  get  that  necessary  lumber,  he  felled 
trees  in  a  spruce  grove  up  the  ravine;  every  board  was 
hewn  by  hand.  And  about  two-thirds  of  those  sluice- 
boxes,  the  bottoms  fitted  w^ith  riffles,  were  finished.  After- 
wards, at  that  camp  where  he  stopped  for  dogs,  I  learned 
that  aside  from  a  few  days  at  long  intervals,  when  the  two 
miners  had  exchanged  their  labor  for  some  engineering,  he 
had  made  his  improvements  alone,  single-handed.  And 
most  of  that  flume  was  constructed  in  those  slow  months  he 
waited  to  hear  from  me." 

Tisdale  paused,  and  again  bis  glance  sought  the  faces 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK  15 

of  those  who  had  known  David  Weatherbee.  But  all  the 
Circle  was  strung  responsive.  Those  who  never  had  known 
Weatherbee  understood  the  terrible  conditions  he  had 
braved;  the  body-wracking  toil  underground;  the  soul- 
breaking  solitude ;  the  crowding  silence  that  months  earlier 
he  had  felt  the  necessity  to  escape.  In  that  picked  com- 
pany, the  latent  force  in  each  acknowledged  the  iron  cour- 
age of  the  man ;  but  it  was  Tisdale's  magnetic  personality, 
the  unstudied  play  of  expression  in  his  rugged  face,  the 
undercurrent  of  emotion  quickening  through  infinite  tones 
of  his  voice,  that  plumbed  the  depths  and  in  every  listener 
struck  the  dominant  chord.  And,  too,  these  men  had 
bridged  subconsciously  those  vast  distances  between  Tis- 
dale's start  from  Nome  in  clear  weather,  "  with  a  moon  in 
her  second  quarter,"  and  that  stop  at  the  deserted  mine, 
when  his  dogs  —  powerful  huskies,  part  wolf,  since  they 
were  bred  in  the  Seward  Peninsula  — ''  were  nearly  done 
for."  Long  and  inevitable  periods  of  dark  there  had  been ; 
perils  of  white  blizzard,  of  black  frost.  They  had  run 
familiarly  the  whole  gamut  of  hardship  and  danger  he  him- 
self must  have  faced  single-handed ;  and  while  full  measure 
was  accorded  Weatherbee,  the  greater  tribute  passed 
silently,  unsought,  to  the  man  who  had  traveled  so  far  and 
so  fast  to  rescue  him. 

"  It  ought  to  have  been  me,"  exclaimed  Lucky  Banks  at 
last  in  his  high  treble.  "  I  was  just  down  in  the  Iditarod 
country,  less  than  three  hundred  miles.  I  ought  to  have 
run  up  once  in  awhile  to  see  how  he  was  getting  along. 
But  I  never  thought  of  Dave's  needing  help  himself,  and 
nobody  told  me  he  was  around.  I'd  ought  to  have  kept 
track  of  him,  though ;  it  was  up  to  me.  But  go  on,  Hollis  ; 
go  on.  I  bet  you  made  up  that  day  you  lost  at  the  mine. 
My,  yes,  I  bet  you  broke  the  record  hitting  that  fifty-mile 
camp." 

Tisdale  nodded,  and  for  an  instant  the  humor  played 


16        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

lightly  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  "  It  took  me  just  seven 
hours  with  an  up-grade  the  last  twenty  miles.  You  see,  I 
had  Weatherbee  to  break  trail.  He  rested  a  night  At  the 
camp  and  lost  about  three  hours  more,  while  they  hunted  a 
missing  husky  to  make  up  his  team.  Still  he  pushed  out 
with  nearly  eighteen  hours  start  and  four  fresh  dogs,  with 
Tyee  pulling  a  strong  lead ;  while  I  wasn't  able  to  replace 
even  one  of  mine  that  had  gone  lame.  I  had  to  leave  him 
there,  and  before  I  reached  the  summit  of  Rainy  Pass,  I 
was  carrying  his  mate  on  my  sled.  But  I  had  a  sun  then, 
—  the  days  were  lengthening  fast  into  May, —  and  by  cut- 
ting my  stops  short  I  managed  to  hold  my  own  to  the  di- 
vide. After  that  I  gained.  Finally,  one  morning,  I  came 
to  a  rough  place  where  his  outfit  had  upset,  and  I  saw  his 
dogs  were  giving  him  trouble.  There  were  blood  stains  all 
around  on  the  snow.  It  looked  like  the  pack  had  broken- 
open,  and  the  huskies  had  tried  to  get  at  the  dried  salmon. 
Tyee  must  have  fought  them  off  until  Weatherbee  was  able 
to  master  them.  At  the  end  of  the  next  day  I  reached  a 
miners'  cabin  where  he  had  spent  the  night,  and  the  man 
who  had  helped  him  unhitch  told  me  he  had  had  to  remind 
him  to  feed  his  dogs.  He  had  seemed  all  right,  only  dead 
tired ;  but  he  had  gone  to  bed  early  and,  neglecting  to  leave 
a  call,  had  slept  fifteen  hours.  I  rested  my  team  five,  and 
late  the  next  morning  I  came  upon  his  camp-fire  burning." 

Tisdale  paused  to  draw  his  hand  across  his  eyes  and  met 
Foster's  look  over  the  table.  "  It  was  there  I  blundered. 
There  was  a  plain  traveled  trail  from  that  mine  down 
through  the  lowlands  to  Susitna,  and  I  failed  to  see  that 
his  tracks  left  it :  they  were  partly  blotted  out  in  a  fresh 
fall  of  snow.  I  lost  six  hours  there,  and  when  I  picked 
up  his  trail  again,  I  saw  he  was  avoiding  the  few  way 
houses ;  he  passed  the  settlement  by ;  then  I  missed  his 
camp-fire.  It  was  plain  he  was  afraid  to  sleep  any  more. 
But  he  knew  the  Susitna  country;  he  kept  a  true  course, 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK     17 

and  sometimes,  in  swampy  places,  turned  back  to  the  main 
thoroughfare.  At  last,  near  the  crossing  of  the  Mata- 
nuska,  I  was  caught  in  the  first  spring  thaw.  It  was 
heavy  going.  All  the  streams  were  out  of  banks ;  the  valley 
became  a  network  of  small  sloughs  undermining  the  snow- 
fields,  creating  innumerable  ponds  and  lakes.  The  earth, 
bared  in  patches,  gave  and  oozed  like  a  sponge.  It  was 
impossible  to  follow  Weatherbee's  trail,  but  I  picked  it  up 
once  more,  where  it  came  into  the  other,  along  the  Chu- 
gach  foot-hills.  Slides  began  to  block  the  way ;  ice  glazed 
the  overflows  at  night;  and  at  last  a  cold  wave  struck 
down  from  the  summits ;  the  track  stiffened  in  an  hour  and 
it  was  hard  as  steel  underfoot.  The  wind  cut  like  swords. 
Then  came  snow." 

Tisdale  looked  off  with  his  far-sighted  gaze  through  the 
open  door.  Every  face  was  turned  to  him,  but  no  one  hur- 
ried him.     It  was  a  time  when  silence  spoke. 

"  I  came  on  Weatherbee's  dogs  in  a  small  ravine,"  he 
said.  "  They  had  broken  through  thin  ice  in  an  over- 
flow, and  the  sled  had  mired  in  muck.  The  cold  wave  set 
them  tight;  their  legs  were  planted  like  posts,  and  I  had 
to  cut  them  out.     Two  were  done  for." 

"  You  mean,"  exclaimed  Banks,  "  Dave  hadn't  cut  the 
traces  to  give  his  huskies  a  chance." 

Tisdale  nodded  slowly.  "  But  the  instant  I  cut  Tyee 
loose,  he  went  limping  off,  picking  up  his  master's  trail. 
It  was  a  zigzag  course  up  the  face  of  a  ridge  into  a  grove 
of  spruce.  Weatherbee  took  a  course  like  a  husky ;  loca- 
tion was  a  sixth  sense  to  him;  yet  I  found  his  tracks  up 
there,  winding  aimlessly.  It  had  stopped  snowing  then, 
but  the  first  impressions  were  nearly  filled.  In  a  little 
while  I  noticed  the  spaces  were  shorter  between  the  prints 
of  the  left  shoe ;  they  made  a  dip  and  blur.  Then  I  came 
into  a  parallel  trail,  and  these  tracks  were  clear,  made  since 
the  snowstorm,  but  there  was  the  same  favoring  of  the 


18        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

left  foot.  He  was  traveling  in  a  circle.  Sometimes  in 
unsheltered  places,  where  the  wind  swept  through  an  ave- 
nue of  trees,  small  drifts  covered  the  impressions,  but  the 
dog  found  them  again,  still  doubling  that  broad  circle. 
Finally  I  saw  a  great  dark  blotch  ahead  where  the  ground 
sloped  up  to  a  narrow  plateau.  And  in  a  moment  I  saw  it 
was  caused  by  a  great  many  fresh  twigs  of  spruce,  all 
stuck  upright  in  the  snow  and  set  carefully  in  rows,  like  a 
child's  make-believe  garden." 

Tisdale's  voice  broke.  He  was  looking  off  again  into 
the  night,  and  his  face  hardened;  two  vertical  lines  like 
clefts  divided  his  brows.  It  was  as  though  the  iron  in  the 
man  cropped  through.  The  pause  was  breathless.  Here 
and  there  a  grim  face  worked. 

"  When  the  dog  reached  the  spot,"  Hollis  went  on,  "  he 
gave  a  quick  bark  and  ran  with  short  yelps  towards  a 
clump  of  young  trees  a  few  yards  off.  The  rim  of  a  drift 
formed  a  partial  windbreak,  but  he  had  only  a  low  bough 
to  cover  him, —  and  the  temperature, —  along  those  ice- 
peaks  — " 

His  voice  failed.  There  was  another  speaking  silence. 
It  was  as  though  these  men,  having  followed  all  those  hun- 
dreds of  miles  over  tundra  and  mountains,  through  thaw 
and  frost,  felt  with  him  in  that  moment  the  heart-breaking 
futility  of  his  pursuit.  "  I  tried  my  best,"  he  added.  "  I 
guess  you  all  know  that,  but  —  I  was  too  late." 

The  warning  blast  of  an  automobile  cut  the  stillness,  and 
the  machine  stopped  in  front  of  the  clubhouse,  but  no  one 
at  the  table  noticed  the  interruption. 

Then  Banks  said,  in  his  high  key :  "  But  you  hitched 
his  dogs  up  with  yours,  the  ones  that  were  fit,  and  brought 
him  through  to  Seward.  You  saw  him  buried.  Thank, 
you  for  that." 

Feversham  cleared  his  throat  and  reached  for  the  de- 
canter,    "  Think  of  it !  "  he  exclaimed.     "  A  man  like  that, 


MAN  WHO  NEVER  CAME  BACK     19 

lost  on  a  main  traveled  thoroughfare!  But  the  toll  will 
go  on  every  year  until  we  have  a  railroad.  Here's  to  that 
road,  gentlemen.  Here's  to  the  Alaska  Midway  and  Home 
Rule." 

The  toast  was  responded  to,  and  it  was  followed  by 
others.  But  Tisdale  had  left  his  place  to  step  through  the 
open  door  to  the  balcony.  Presently  Foster  joined  him. 
They  stood  for  an  interval  smoking  and  taking  in  those 
small  night  sounds  for  which  long  intimacy  with  Nature 
teaches  a  man  to  listen ;  the  distant  voice  of  running  water ; 
the  teasing  note  of  the  breeze;  the  complaint  of  a  balsam- 
laden  bough ;  the  restless  stir  of  unseen  wings ;  the  patter 
of  diminutive  feet.  A  wooded  point  that  formed  the  horn 
of  a  bay  was  etched  in  black  on  the  silver  lake ;  then  sud- 
denly the  moon  illumined  the  horizon  and,  rising  over  a 
stencilled  crest  of  the  Cascades,  stretched  her  golden  path 
to  the  shore  below  them.  Both  these  men,  watching  it, 
saw  that  other  trail  reaching  white,  limitless,  hard  as  steel 
through  the  Alaska  solitudes. 

"  At  Seward,"  said  Foster  at  last,  "  you  received  orders 
by  cable  detailing  you  to  a  season  in  the  Matanuska  fields ; 
but  before  you  took  your  party  in,  you  sent  a  force  of  men 
back  to  the  Aurora  to  finish  Weatherbee's  work  and  begin 
operations.  And  the  diverting  of  that  stream  exposed 
gravels  that  are  going  to  make  you  rich.  You  deserve  it. 
I  grant  that.  It's  your  compensation;  but  just  the  same 
it  gives  a  sharper  edge  to  poor  Weatherbee's  luck." 

Tisdale  swung  around.  "  See  here,  Foster,  I  want  you 
to  know  I  should  have  considered  that  money  as  a  loan  if 
David  had  lived.  If  he  had  lived  —  and  recovered  —  I 
should  have  made  him  take  back  that  half  interest  in  the 
Aurora.  You've  got  to  believe  that ;  and  I  would  be  ready 
to  do  as  much  for  his  wife,  if  she  had  treated  him  differ- 
ently.    But  she  wrecked  his  life.     I  hold  her  responsible." 

Foster  was  silent. 


20        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Think  of  it !  "  Hollis  went  on.  "  The  shame  of  it ! 
All  those  years  while  he  faced  privation,  the  worst  kind, 
tramping  Alaska  trails,  panning  in  icy  streams,  sluicing, 
digging  sometimes  like  any  common  laborer,  wintering  in 
shacks,  she  was  living  in  luxury  down  here.  He  never 
made  a  promising  discovery  that  he  wasn't  forced  to  sell. 
She  spent  his  money  faster  than  he  made  it ;  kept  him  handi- 
capped. And  all  she  ever  gave  him  was  a  friendly  letter 
now  and  then,  full  of  herself  and  the  gay  life  she  led,  and 
showing  clearly  how  happy  she  could  be  without  him. 
Think  of  it,  Foster !  "  His  voice  deepened  and  caught  its 
vibrant  quality.  "  A  fine  fellow  like  Weatherbee ;  so  re- 
liable, so  great  in  a  hard  place.  How  could  she  have 
treated  him  as  she  did.f^  Damn  it!  How  could  he  have 
thrown  himself  away  like  that,  for  a  feather-headed 
woman  ?  " 

Foster  knocked  the  ash  from  the  end  of  his  cigar. 
"  You  don't  know  her,"  he  answered.  "  If  you  did,  you 
wouldn't  put  it  in  that  way."  He  smiled  a  little  and 
looked  off  at  the  golden  path  on  the  lake.  "  So,"  he  said 
after  a  moment,  and  his  glance  returned  to  meet  Tisdale's 
squarely,  "  she  has  absolutely  nothing  now  but  that  tract 
of  unimproved  desert  on  the  other  side  of  the  Cascades." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    QUESTION 

SOMETIME,  high  on  a  mountain  slope,  a  cross  current 
of  air,  or  perhaps  a  tremor  of  the  surface  occasioned 
far  off,  starts  the  small  snow-cap,  that  sliding,  halting,  im- 
pelled forward  again,  always  accumulating,  gathering 
momentum,  finally  becomes  the  irresistible  avalanche.  So 
Marcia  Feversham,  the  following  morning,  gave  the  first 
slight  impetus  to  the  question  that  eventually  menaced  Tis- 
dale  with  swift  destruction.  She  was  not  taking  the  early 
train  with  her  husband ;  she  desired  to  break  the  long 
journey  and,  after  the  season  in  the  north,  prolong  the 
visit  with  her  relatives  in  Seattle.  The  delegate  had 
left  her  sleeping,  but  when  he  had  finished  the  light  break- 
fast served  him  alone  in  the  Morganstein  dining-room  and 
hurried  out  to  the  waiting  limousine,  to  his  surprise  he 
found  her  in  the  car.  "  I  am  going  down  to  see  you 
away,"  she  explained ;  "  this  salt  breeze  with  the  morning 
tide  is  so  delightfully  fresh." 

There  was  no  archness  in  her  glance;  her  humor  was 
wholly  masculine.  A  firm  mouthy  brilliant,  dark  eyes,  the 
heavy  Morganstein  brows  that  met  over  the  high  nose, 
gave  weight  and  intensity  to  anything  she  said.  Her  hus- 
band, in  coaching  her  for  the  coming  campaign  at  Wash- 
ington, had  told  her  earnestness  was  her  strong  suit ;  that 
her  deep,  deliberate  voice  was  her  best  card,  but  she  held 
in  her  eyes,  unquestionably,  both  bowers. 

"  Delightful  of  you,  I  am  sure,"  he  answered,  taking  the 
seat  beside  her,  with  his  for-the-public  smile,  "  but  I  give 


22        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

credit  to  the  air;  you  are  looking  as  brilliant  at  this  out- 
rageous hour  as  you  would  on  your  way  to  an  afternoon 
at  bridge."  Then,  the  chauffeur  having  closed  the  door 
and  taken  his  place  in  the  machine,  Feversham  turned  a 
little  to  scrutinize  her  face. 

"  Now,  my  lady,"  he  asked,  "  to  what  do  I  owe  the 
pleasure?  " 

"  Mr.  Tisdale,"  she  answered  directly.  '*  Of  course  you 
must  see  now,  even  if  I  do  contrive  to  meet  him  through 
Frederic,  as  you  suggested,  and  manage  to  see  him  fre- 
quently ;  even  if  I  find  out  what  he  means  to  say  in  those 
coal  reports,  when  it  comes  to  influence,  I  won't  have  the 
weight  of  a  feather.  No  woman  could.  He  is  made  of 
iron,  and  his  principles  were  cast  in  the  mold." 

"  Every  man  has  his  vulnerable  point,  and  I  can  trust 
you  to  find  Hollis  Tisdale's."  The  delegate  paused  an 
instant,  still  regarding  his  wife's  face,  frowning  a  little, 
yet  not  without  humor,  then  said :  "  But  you  have 
changed  your  attitude  quickly.  Where  did  you  learn  so 
much  about  him?  How  can  you  be  so  positive  about  a 
man  you  never  have  met?  Whom  you  have  seen  only  a 
time  or  two  at  a  distance,  on  some  street  —  or  was  it  a 
hotel  lobby?  —  in  Valdez  or  Fairbanks?  " 

"  Yesterday,  when  we  were  talking,  that  was  true ;  but 
since  then  I  have  seen  him  at  close  range.  I've  heard 
him."  She  turned  and  met  Feversham's  scrutiny  with  the 
brilliancy  rising  in  her  eyes.  "  Last  night  at  the  club- 
house, when  he  told  the  story  of  David  Weatherbee,  I  was 
there." 

"You  were  there?  Impossible!  That  is  against  the 
rules.  Not  a  man  of  the  Circle  would  have  permitted  it, 
and  you  certainly  would  have  been  discovered  before  you 
reached  the  assembly  hall.  Why,  I  myself  was  the  last  to 
arrive.  Frederic,  you  remember,  had  to  speed  the  car  a 
little  to  get  me  there.     And  I  looked  back  from  the  door 


THE  QUESTION  28 

and  saw  you  in  the  tonneau  with  Elizabeth,  while  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  kept  her  place  in  front  with  Frederic.  You 
were  going  down  the  boulevard  to  spend  the  evening  with 
her  at  Vivian  Court." 

"  That  was  our  plan,  but  we  turned  back,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  We  had  a  curiosity  to  see  the  Circle  seated 
around  the  banquet  board  in  those  ridiculous  purple 
parkas.  And  Frederic  bet  me  a  new  electric  runabout 
against  the  parka  of  silver  fox  and  the  mukluks  I  bought 
of  the  Esquimau  girl  at  Valdez  that  we  never  could  get 
as  far  as  the  assembly  room.  He  waited  with  Elizabeth 
in  the  car  while  we  two  crept  up  the  stairs.  The 
door  was  open,  and  we  stood  almost  screened  by  that  por- 
tiere of  Indian  leather,  peeping  in.  Mr.  Tisdale  was  tell- 
ing the  ptarmigan  yarn  —  it's  wonderful  the  power  he 
has  to  hold  the  interest  of  a  crowd  of  men  —  and  the 
chance  was  too  good  to  miss.  We  stole  on  up  the  steps 
to  the  gallery, —  no  one  noticed  us, —  and  concealed  our- 
selves behind  that  hanging  Kodiak  bearskin." 

"  Incredible !  "  exclaimed  Feversham.  "  But  I  see  you 
arrived  at  the  opportune  moment, —  when  Tisdale  was 
talking.  There's  something  occult  about  the  personality 
of  that  man.  And  she,  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  heard  every- 
thing? " 

Marcia  nodded.     "  Even  your  graceful  toast  to  her." 

At  this  he  settled  back  in  his  seat,  laughing.  "  Well, 
I  am  glad  I  made  it.  I  could  hardly  have  put  it  more 
neatly  had  I  known  she  was  there." 

"  She  couldn't  have  missed  a  word.  We  had  found  a 
bench  behind  the  Kodiak  skin,  and  she  sat  straight  as  a 
soldier,  listening  through  it  all.  I  couldn't  get  her  to 
come  away ;  it  was  as  though  she  was  looking  on  at  an  in- 
teresting play.  She  was  just  as  neutral  and  still;  only 
her  face  turned  white,  and  her  eyes  were  wide  as  stars, 
and  once  she  gripped  the  fur  of  the  Kodiak  so  hard  I  ex- 


24        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

pected  to  see  it  come  down.  But  I  know  she  failed  to 
grasp  the  vital  point  of  the  story.  I  mean  the  point  vital 
to  her.  She  doesn't  understand  enough  about  law.  And 
I  myself  slept  on  it  the  night  through  before  I  saw.  It 
came  the  moment  I  wakened  this  morning,  clear  and  sud- 
den as  an  electric  flash.  If  David  Weatherbee  was  men- 
tally unbalanced  when  he  made  that  transfer,  the  last 
half  interest  in  the  Aurora  mine  ought  to  revert  to  her." 

Feversham  started.  He  lifted  his  plump  hands  and  let 
them  drop  forcibly  on  his  broad  knees.  But  she  did  not 
notice  his  surprise.  They  were  approaching  the  station, 
and  time  pressed.  "  You  know  it  is  not  a  simple  infatua- 
tion with  Frederic,"  she  hurried  on,  "  to  be  forgotten  to- 
morrow. He  has  loved  her  passionately  from  the  day  he 
flrst  met  her,  four  years  ago.  He  can't  think  of  anything 
else ;  he  never  will  do  anything  of  credit  to  the  family  un- 
til she  is  his  wife.  And  now,  with  David  Weatherbee 
safely  buried,  it  seems  reasonably  sure.  Still,  still,  Miles, 
this  unexpected  fortune  held  out  to  her  just  now  might 
turn  the  scales.  We  have  got  to  keep  it  from  her,  and  if 
those  coal  claims  are  coming  up  for  trial,  you  must  frame 
some  excuse  to  have  them  postponed." 

"Postponed?  Why,  we've  just  succeeded  in  gaining 
Federal  attention.  We've  been  waiting  five  years.  We 
want  them  settled  now.  It  concerns  Frederic  as  well  as 
the  rest  of  us." 

"  Time,"  she  answered,  "  even  more.  If  those  patents 
are  allowed,  he  will  take  immediate  steps  to  mine  the  coal 
on  a  large  scale.  And  it  came  over  me,  instantly,  on  the 
heels  of  the  first  flash,  that  it  was  inevitable,  if  Mr.  Tis- 
dale  had  taken  advantage  of  David  Weatherbee's  condition 
—  and  his  own  story  shows  the  man  had  lost  his  mind ; 
he  was  wandering  around  planting  make-believe  orchards 
in  the  snow  —  you  would  use  the  point  to  impeach  the 
Government's  star  witness." 


THE  QUESTION  25 

''  Impeach  the  Government's  witness  ?  "  repeated  Fever- 
sham,  then  a  sudden  intelligence  leaped  into  his  face. 
"  Impeach  Hollis  Tisdale,"  he  added  softly  and  laughed. 

Presently,  as  the  chauffeur  slackened  speed,  looking  for 
a  stand  among  the  waiting  machines  at  the  depot,  the  at- 
torney said :  "  If  the  syndicate  sends  Stuart  Foster 
north  to  the  Iditarod,  he  may  be  forced  to  winter  there; 
that  would  certainly  postpone  the  trial  until  spring." 

The  next  moment  the  chauffeur  threw  open  the  limousine 
door,  and  the  delegate  stepped  out ;  but  he  lingered  a  lit- 
tle over  his  good-by,  retaining  his  wife's  hand,  which  he 
continued  to  shake  slowly,  while  his  eyes  telegraphed  an 
answer  to  the  question  in  hers.  Then,  laughing  again 
deeply,  he  said:  "My  lady!  My  lady!  Nature  jug- 
gled; she  played  your  brother  Frederic  a  trick  when  she 
set  that  mind  in  your  woman's  head." 


CHAPTER  in 

FOSTER    TOO 

THE  apartment  Tisdale  called  home  was  in  a  high 
comer  of  the  Alaska  building,  where  the  western  win- 
dows, overtopping  other  stone  and  brick  blocks  of  the 
business  center,  commanded  the  harbor,  caught  like  a 
faceted  jewel  between  Duwamish  Head  and  Magnolia  Bluff, 
and  a  far  sweep  of  the  outer  Sound  set  in  wooded  islands 
and  the  lofty  snow  peaks  of  the  Olympic  peninsula.  Next 
to  his  summer  camp  in  the  open  he  liked  this  eyrie,  and 
particularly  he  liked  it  at  this  hour  of  the  night  tide.  He 
drew  his  chair  forward  where  the  stiff,  salt  wind  blew  full 
in  his  face,  but  Foster,  who  had  found  the  elevator  not 
running  and  was  somewhat  heated  by  his  long  climb  to  the 
"  summit,"  took  the  precaution  of  choosing  a  sheltered 
place  near  the  north  window,  which  was  closed.  A  shaded 
electric  lamp  cast  a  ring  of  light  on  the  package  he  had 
laid  on  the  table  between  them,  but  the  rest  of  the  room 
was  in  shadow,  and  from  his  seat  he  glanced  down  on  the 
iridescent  sign  displays  of  Second  Avenue,  then  followed 
the  lines  of  street  globes  trailing  away  to  the  brilliant  con- 
stellations set  against  the  blackness  of  Queen  Anne  hill. 

"  She  is  to  be  out  of  town  a  week,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
hardly  liked  to  leave  Weatherbee's  things  with  a  hotel 
clerk;  since  I  am  sailing  on  the  Admiral  Sampson  to- 
night, I  brought  the  package  back.  You  will  have  to  be 
your  own  messenger." 

"  That's  all  right,  Foster ;  I  can  find  another  when  she 
returns.     I'll  ask  Banks." 


FOSTER  TOO  27 

"  No."  Foster's  glance  came  back  from  the  street ;  his 
voice  rang  a  little  sharp.     "  Take  it  yourself,  Hollis." 

"  I  can  trust  it  with  Banks."  Tisdale  paused  a  mo- 
ment, still  looking  out  on  the  harbor  lights  and  the  stars, 
then  said :  "  So  you  are  going  north  again ;  back  to  the 
copper  mine,  I  presume?  " 

*'  No,  I  shall  be  there  later,  but  I  expect  to  make  a  quick 
trip  in  to  the  Iditarod  now,  to  look  over  placer  properties. 
The  syndicate  has  bonded  Banks'  claims  and,  if  it  is  fea- 
sible, a  dredger  will  be  sent  in  next  spring  to  begin  opera- 
tions on  a  big  scale.  I  shall  go,  of  course,  by  way  of  the 
Yukon,  and  if  ice  comes  early  and  the  steamers  are  taken 
off,  return  by  trail  around  through  Fairbanks." 

"  I  see."  Tisdale  leaned  forward  a  little,  grasping  the 
arms  of  his  chair.  "  The  syndicate  is  taking  considerable 
risk  in  sending  you  to  the  Iditarod  at  this  time.  Suppose 
those  coal  cases  should  be  called,  with  you  winter-bound 
up  there.     Why,  the  Chugach  trial  couldn't  go  on." 

"  I  am  identified  with  the  Morganstein  interests  there,  I 
admit;  but  why  should  the  Chugach  claims  be  classed 
with  conspiracies  to  defraud  the  Government  ?  They  were 
entered  regularly,  fifty  coal  claims  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres  each,  by  as  many  different  persons.  Because 
the  President  temporarily  suspended  Alaska  coal  laws  is 
no  reason  those  patents  should  be  refused  or  even  delayed. 
Our  money  was  accepted  by  the  Government ;  it  was  never 
refunded." 

"  As  I  thought,"  said  Tisdale  softly,  addressing  the 
stars ;  "  as  I  feared."  Then,  "  Foster,  Foster,"  he  ad- 
monished, "  be  careful.  Keep  your  head.  That  syndi- 
cate is  going  to  worry  you  some,  old  man,  before  you  are 
through." 

Foster  got  to  his  feet.  "  See  here,  Hollis,  be  fair.  Look 
at  it  once  from  the  other  side.  The  Morgansteins  have 
done  more  for  Alaska  than  they  will  ever  be  given  credit 


28        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

for.  Capital  is  the  one  key  to  open  that  big,  new,  moun- 
tain-locked country,  and  the  Government  is  treating  it  like 
a  boa-constrictor  to  be  throttled  and  stamped  out.  Mil- 
lions went  into  the  development  of  the  El  Dorado,  yet  they 
still  have  to  ship  the  ore  thousands  of  miles  to  a  smelter, 
with  coal, —  the  best  kind,  inexhaustible  fields  of  it, —  at 
our  door.  And  go  back  to  McFarlane.  He  put  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  into  the  Chugach  Railway  to 
bring  out  the  coal  he  had  mined,  but  he  can't  touch  it ;  it's 
all  tied  up  in  red  tape;  the  road  is  rotting  away.  He 
is  getting  to  be  an  old  man,  but  I  saw  him  doing  day 
labor  on  the  Seattle  streets  to-day.  Then  there's  the 
Copper  River  Northwestern.  That  company  built  a  rail- 
road where  every  engineer  but  one,  who  saw  the  condi- 
tions, said  it  could  not  be  done.  You  yourself  have  called 
it  the  most  wonderful  piece  of  construction  on  record. 
You  know  how  that  big  bridge  was  built  in  winter  —  the 
only  time  when  the  bergs  stopped  chipping  off  the  face  of 
the  glacier  long  enough  to  set  the  piers;  you  know  how 
Haney  worked  his  men,  racing  against  the  spring  thaw  — 
he's  paying  for  it  with  his  life,  now,  down  in  California. 
In  dollars  that  bridge  alone  cost  a  million  and  a  half. 
Yet,  with  this  road  finished  through  the  coast  mountains, 
they've  had  to  suspend  operation  because  they  can't  burn 
their  own  coal.  They've  got  to  change  their  locomotives 
to  oil  burners.  And  all  this  is  just  because  the  President 
delays  to  annul  a  temporary  restriction  the  previous  execu- 
tive neglected  to  remove.  We  have  waited;  we  have  im- 
ported from  British  Columbia,  from  Japan;  shipped  in 
Pennsylvania,  laid  down  at  Prince  William  Sound  at  fifteen 
dollars  a  ton,  when  our  own  coal  could  be  mined  for  two 
and  a  quarter  and  delivered  here  in  Seattle  for  five." 

"  It  could,  I  grant  that,"  said  Tisdale  mellowly,  "  but 
would  it,  Stuart?  Would  it,  if  the  Morganstein  interests 
had  exclusive  control?  " 


FOSTER  TOO  29 

Foster  seemed  not  to  have  heard  that  question.  He 
turned  restlessly  and  strode  across  the  room.  "  The  Gov- 
ernment with  just  as  much  reason  might  have  conserved 
Alaska  gold." 

Tisdale  laughed.  "  That  would  have  been  a  good  thing 
for  Alaska,"  he  answered ;  "  if  a  part,  at  least  of  her  placer 
streams  had  been  conserved.  Come,  Foster,  you  know  as 
as  well  as  I  do  that  the  regulations  early  prospectors  ac- 
cepted as  laws  are  not  respected  to-day.  Every  discovery 
is  followed  by  speculators  who  travel  light,  who  do  not  ex- 
pect to  do  even  first  assessment  work,  but  only  to  stay  on 
the  ground  long  enough  to  stake  as  many  claims  as  pos- 
sible for  themselves  and  their  friends.  When  the  real 
prospector  arrives,  with  his  year's  outfit,  he  finds  hundreds 
of  miles,  a  whole  valley  staked,  and  his  one  chance  is  to  buy. 
or  work  under  a  lease.  Most  of  these  speculators  live  in 
the  towns,  some  of  them  down  here  in  Seattle,  carrying  on 
other  business,  and  they  never  visit  their  claims.  They  re- 
stake  and  re-stake  year  after  year  and  follow  on  the  heels 
of  each  new  strike,  often  by  proxy.  We  have  proof 
enough  of  all  this  to  convince  the  most  lukewarm  senator." 

"  You  think  then,"  said  Foster  quickly,  "  there  is  going 
to  be  a  chance,  after  all,  for  the  bill  for  Home  Rule  ?  " 

"  No."  Tisdale's  voice  lost  its  mellowness.  "  It  is  a 
mistake ;  it's  asking  too  much  at  the  beginning.  We  need 
amended  mining  laws ;  we  should  work  for  that  at  once,  in 
the  quickest  concerted  way.  And,  first  of  all,  our  special 
delegates  should  push  the  necessity  of  a  law  giving  a  de- 
fined length  of  shaft  or  tunnel  for  assessment  work,  as  is 
enforced  in  the  Klondike,  and  ask  for  efficient  inspectors 
to  see  that  such  laws  as  we  have  are  obeyed." 

Foster  moved  to  the  window  and  stood  looking  down 
again  on  the  city  lights.  Presently  he  said :  "  I  pre- 
sume you  will  see  the  President  while  you  are  in  Washing- 
ton." 


30        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Probably.  He  is  always  interested  in  the  field  work 
up  there,  and  this  season's  reconnaissance  in  the 
Matanuska  coal  district  should  be  of  special  importance  to 
him  just  now.  The  need  of  a  naval  coaling  station  on  the 
Pacific  coast  has  grown  imperative,  and  with  vast  bodies  of 
coal  accessible  to  Prince  William  Sound,  the  question  of  lo- 
cation should  soon  be  solved." 

There  was  another  silence,  while  Foster  walked  again  to 
the  end  of  the  room  and  returned.  "  How  soon  do  you 
start  east  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Within  a  week.  Meantime,  I  am  going  over  the  Cas- 
cades into  the  sage-brush  country  to  look  up  that  land  of 
Weatherbee's." 

"  You  intend  then,"  said  Foster  quickly,  "  to  take  that 
piece  of  desert  off^  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  hands  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.  It  depends  on  the  possibility  of  carrying 
out  his  project.  I  have  just  shipped  a  steam  thawing 
apparatus  in  to  the  Aurora,  and  that,  with  supplies  for  a 
winter  camp,  has  taken  a  good  deal  of  ready  money. 
Freighting  runs  high,  whether  it's  from  the  Iditarod  or 
south  from  Fairbanks.  But  spring  should  see  expenses 
paid  and  my  investment  back." 

"  From  all  I've  heard,"  responded  Foster  dryly,  "  you'll 
get  your  investment  back  with  interest." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Tisdale  after  a  moment,  "  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  will  be  eager  to  dispose  of  the  tract ;  the  only 
reason  it  is  still  on  her  hands  is  that  no  one  has  wanted  to 
buy  it  at  any  price." 

"  And  that's  just  why  you  should."  Foster  paused, 
then  went  on  slowly,  controlling  the  emotion  in  his  voice, 
"  You  don't  know  her,  Hollis.  She's  proud.  She  won't 
admit  the  situation,  and  I  can't  ask  her  directly,  but  I  am 
sure  she  has  come  to  the  limit.  I've  been  trying  all  day, 
ever  since  I  knew  I  must  go  north  again,  to  raise  enough 
money  to  make  an  off^er  for  that  land,  but  practically  all  I 


FOSTER  TOO  31 

have  is  tied  up  in  Alaska  properties.  It  takes  time  to  find 
a  customer,  and  the  banks  are  cautious." 

Tisdale  rose  from  his  chair.  "  Foster ! "  he  cried  and 
stretched  out  his  hands.     "  Foster  —  not  you,  too." 

'I'hen  his  hands  dropped,  and  Foster  drew  a  step  nearer 
into  the  circle  of  light  and  stood  meeting  squarely  the 
silent  remonstrance,  accusation,  censure,  for  which  he  was 
prepared.  "  I  knew  how  you  would  take  it,"  he  broke  out 
at  last,  "  but  it's  the  truth.  I've  smothered  it,  kept  it 
down  for  years ;  but  it's  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  any 
longer.  I'd  have  been  glad  to  exchange  places  with 
Weatherbee.  I'd  have  counted  it  a  privilege  to  work,  even 
as  he  did,  for  her;  I  could  have  suffered  privation,  the 
worst  kind,  wrung  success  out  of  failure,  for  the  hope  of 
her." 

"  See  here,  Foster," —  Tisdale  laid  his  hands  on  the 
younger  man's  shoulders,  shaking  him  slowly, — "  you  must 
stop  this."  His  hold  relaxed;  he  stepped  back,  and  his 
voice  vibrated  softly  through  the  room.  "  How  could  you 
have  said  it,  knowing  David  Weatherbee  as  you  did.^^  No 
matter  what  kind  of  a  woman  she  is,  you  should  have  re- 
membered she  was  his  wife  and  respected  her  for  his 
sake." 

"  Respect?  I  do  respect  her.  She's  the  kind  of  woman 
a  man  sets  on  a  pedestal  to  worship  and  glorify.  You 
don't  understand  it,  Hollis ;  you  don't  know  her,  and  I  can't 
explain ;  but  just  her  presence  is  an  appeal,  an  inspiration 
to  all  that's  worth  anything  in  me." 

Tisdale's  hands  sought  his  pockets ;  his  head  dropped 
forward  a  little  and  he  stood  regarding  Foster  with  an  up- 
ward look  from  under  frowning  brows. 

"  You  don't  know  her,"  Foster  repeated.  "  She's  differ- 
ent —  finer  than  other  women.  And  she  has  been  gently 
bred.  Generations  of  the  best  blood  is  bottled  like  old 
wine  in  her  crystal  body."     He  paused,  his  face  brighten- 


32        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ing  at  the  fancy.  "  You  can  always  see  the  spirit  spark- 
ling through." 

"  I  remember  about  that  blue  blood,"  Tisdale  said 
tersely.  "  Weatherbee  told  me  how  it  could  be  traced  back 
through  a  Spanish  mother  to  some  buccaneering  adven- 
turer, Don  Silva  de  y  somebody,  who  made  his  headquar- 
ters in  Mexico.  And  that  means  a  trace  of  Mexican  in  the 
race,  or  at  least  Aztec." 

Foster  colored.  "  The  son  of  that  Don  Silva  came 
north  and  settled  in  California.  He  brought  his  peons 
with  him  and  made  a  great  rancheria.  At  the  time  of  the 
Mexican  War,  his  herds  and  flocks  covered  immense  ranges. 
Hundreds  of  these  cattle  must  have  supplied  the  United 
States  commissary ;  the  rest  were  scattered,  and  in  the  end 
there  was  little  left  of  the  estate;  just  a  few  hundred  acres 
and  a  battered  hacienda.  But  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  father 
was  English;  the  younger  son  of  an  old  and  knighted 
family." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Tisdale  dryly.  "  Here  in  the 
northwest  we  call  such  sons  remittance  men.  They  are 
paid  generous  allowances,  sometimes,  to  come  to  America 
and  stay." 

"  That's  unfair,"  Foster  flamed.  "  You  have  no  right 
to  say  it.  He  came  to  California  when  he  was  just  a 
young  fellow  to  invest  a  small  inheritance.  He  doubled  it 
twice  in  a  few  years.  Then  he  was  persuaded  to  put  his 
money  in  an  old,  low-grade  gold  mine.  The  company  made 
improvements,  built  u  flume  thirty  miles  long  to  bring  water 
to  the  property  for  development,  but  it  was  hardly  finished 
when  a  State  law  was  passed  prohibiting  hydraulic  min- 
ing. It  practically  ruined  him.  He  had  nothing  to  de- 
pend on  then  but  a  small  annuity." 

"  Meantime,"  supplemented  Tisdale,  "  he  had  married 
his  Spanish  senorita  and  her  inheritance,  the  old  rancheria, 
was  sunk  with  his  own  in  the  gold  mine.     Then  he  began  to 


FOSTER  TOO  38 

play  fast  and  loose  with  his  annuity  at  the  San  Francisco 
stock  exchange." 

"  He  hoped  to  make  good  quickly.  He  was  getting  past 
his  prime,  with  his  daughter's  future  to  be  secured.  But  it 
got  to  be  a  habit  and,  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  a  passion. 
His  figure  was  well  known  on  the  street ;  he  was  called  a 
prlunger.  Some  days  he  made  fortunes  ;  the  next  lost  them. 
Still  he  was  the  same  distinguished,  courteous  gentleman 
to  the  end." 

"  And  that  came  on  the  stock  exchange,  after  a  pro- 
longed strain.  David  Weatherbee  found  him  and  took 
him  home."  Tisdale  paused,  then  went  on,  still  regarding 
Foster  with  that  upward  look  from  under  his  forbidding 
brows.  "  It  fell  to  Weatherbee  to  break  the  news  to  the 
daughter,  and  ten  days  later,  on  the  eve  of  his  sailing 
north  to  Seattle,  that  marriage  was  hurried  through." 

There  was  a  silent  moment,  then  Foster  said: 
"  Weatherbee  loved  her,  and  he  was  going  to  Alaska ;  it  was 
uncertain  when  he  could  return;  married,  he  might  send 
for  her  when  conditions  were  fit.  And  her  father's  affairs 
were  a  complete  wreck;  even  the  annuity  stopped  at  his 
death,  and  there  wasn't  an  acre  of  her  mother's  inherit- 
ance left.     Not  a  relative  to  take  her  in." 

"  I  know ;  that  is  why  she  married  Weatherbee."  Tis- 
dale set  his  lips  grimly ;  he  swung  around  and  strode  across 
the  floor.  "  You  see,  you  can't  tell  me  anything,"  he  said. 
"  I  know  all  about  it.  Wait.  Listen.  I  am  going  over 
the  mountains  and  look  up  that  land  of  Weatherbee's,  and 
I  shall  probably  buy  it,  but  I  want  you  to  understand 
clearly  it  is  only  because  I  hope  to  carry  his  project 
through.  Now  go  north,  Foster;  take  a  new  grip  on 
things ;  get  to  work  and  let  your  investments  alone." 

After  that,  when  Foster  had  gone,  Tisdale  spent  a  long 
interval  tramping  the  floor  of  his  breezy  room.  The  fur- 
rows still  divided  his  brows,  his  mouth  was  set,  and  a  dark 


84        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

color  burned  and  glowed  through  his  tan.  But  deeper 
than  his  angry  solicitude  for  Foster  rankled  his  resentment 
against  this  woman.  Who  was  she,  he  asked  himself,  that 
she  should  fix  her  hold  on  level-headed  Foster.?  But  he 
knew  her  kind.  Feversham  had  called  her  a  "  typical 
American  beauty,"  but  there  were  many  types,  and  he 
knew  her  kind.  She  was  a  brunette,  of  course,  showing  a 
swarthier  trace  of  Mexican  with  the  Spanish,  and  she 
would  have  a  sort  of  personal  magnetism.  She  might 
prove  dramatic  if  roused,  but  those  Spanish-California 
women  were  indolent,  and  they  grew  heavy  early.  Big, 
handsome,  voluptuous;  just  a  splendid  animal  without  a 
spark  of  soul. 

He  had  stopped  near  the  table,  and  his  glance  fell  on  the 
package  in  the  ring  of  light  from  the  shaded  lamp.  After 
a  moment  he  lifted  it  and,  drawing  up  a  chair,  seated  him- 
self and  removed  the  wrapper.  It  covered  a  tin  box  such 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  use  in  the  wilderness  for  the  pro- 
tection and  portage  of  field  notes  and  maps.  He  raised  the 
lid  and  took  from  the  top  a  heavy  paper,  which  he  Unfolded 
and  spread  before  him.  It  was  Weatherbee's  landscape 
plan,  traced  with  the  skill  of  a  draughtsman  and  showing 
plainly  the  contour  of  the  tract  in  eastern  Washington  and 
his  method  of  reclamation.  The  land  included  a  deep 
pocket  set  between  spurs  of  the  Cascade  Mountains.  The 
ridges  and  peaks  above  it  had  an  altitude  of  from  one  to 
six  thousand  feet.  He  found  the  spring,  marked  high  in  a 
depressed  shoulder,  and  followed  the  line  of  flume  drawn 
from  it  down  to  a  natural  dry  basin  at  the  top  of  the 
pocket.  A  dam  was  set  in  the  lower  rim  of  this  reservoir 
and,  reaching,  from  it,  a  canal  was  sketched  in,  feeding 
cross  ditches,  distributing  spillways  to  the  orchards  that 
covered  the  slopes  and  levels  below.  Finally  he  traced  the 
roadway  up  through  the  avenues  between  the  trees,  over 
the  bench,  to  the  house  that  commanded  the  valley.     The 


FOSTER  TOO  85 

mission  walls,  the  inside  court,  the  roomy,  vine-grown 
portico,  all  the  detail  of  foliage  here  had  been  elaborated 
skilfully,  with  the  touch  of  an  artist.  The  habitation 
stood  out  the  central  feature  of  the  picture  and,  as  a  good 
etching  will,  assumed  a  certain  personality. 

How  fond  David  would  have  been  of  a  home, —  a  home 
and  children !  Tisdale  folded  the  plan  and  sat  holding  it 
absently  in  his  hands.  His  mind  ran  back  from  this  final, 
elaborated  copy  to  the  first  rough  draft  Weatherbee  had 
shown  him  one  night  at  the  beginning  of  that  interminable 
winter  they  had  passed  together  in  the  Alaska  solitudes. 
He  had  watched  the  drawing  and  the  project  grow.  But 
afterwards,  when  he  had  taken  up  geological  work  again, 
they  had  met  only  at  long  intervals ;  at  times  he  had  lost 
all  trace  of  Weatherbee,  and  he  had  not  realized  the 
scheme  had  such  a  hold.  Still,  he  should  have  under- 
stood ;  he  should  have  had  at  least  a  suspicion  before  that 
letter  reached  him  at  Nome.  And  even  then  he  had  been 
blind.  With  that  written  proof  in  his  hands,  he  had 
failed  to  grasp  its  meaning.  The  tragedy !  the  shame  of 
it!  That  he  should  have  hesitated, —  thrown  away  four 
days. 

He  looked  off  once  more  to  the  harbor,  and  his  eyes 
gathered  their  far-sighted  expression,  as  though  they  went 
seeking  that  white  trail  through  the  solitudes  stretching 
limitless  under  the  cold  Arctic  night.  His  face  hardened. 
When  finally  the  features  stirred,  disturbed  by  forces 
far  down,  he  had  come  to  that  make-believe  orchard  of 
spruce  twigs. 

After  a  while  he  folded  the  drawing  to  put  it  away,  but 
as  his  glance  fell  on  the  contents  of  the  box,  he  laid  the  plan 
on  the  table  to  take  up  the  miner's  poke  tucked  in  a  corner 
made  by  a  packet  of  letters,  and  drew  out  Weather- 
bee's  watch.  It  was  valuable  but  the  large  monogram 
deeply  engraved  on  the  gold  case  may  have  made  it  un- 


36        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

negotiable.  That  probably  was  why  David  never  had 
parted  with  it.  Tisdale  wound  it,  and  set  the  hands. 
The  action  seemed  suddenly  to  bring  Weatherbee  close. 
He  felt  his  splendid  personality  there  beside  him,  as  he 
used  to  feel  it  still  nights  up  under  the  near  Yukon  stars. 
It  was  as  though  he  was  back  to  one  night,  the  last  on  a 
long  trail,  when  they  were  about  to  part  company.  He 
had  been  urging  him  to  come  out  with  him  to  the  States, 
but  Weatherbee  had  as  steadily  refused.  "  Not  yet,"  he 
persisted.  "  Not  until  I  have  something  to  show."  And 
again :  ''  No,  Hollis,  don't  ask  me  to  throw  away  all 
these  years.  I  have  the  experience  now,  and  I've  got  to 
make  good."  Then  he  spoke  of  his  wife  —  for  an  in- 
stant Tisdale  seemed  to  see  him  once  more,  bending  to  hold 
his  open  watch  so  that  the  light  of  the  camp-fire  played  on 
her  picture  set  in  the  lower  rim.  "  You  see  Alaska  is  no 
place  for  a  woman  like  her,"  he  said,  "  but  she  is  worth 
waiting  for  and  working  for.  You  ought  to  understand, 
Hollis,  how  the  thought  of  her  buoys  me  through." 

But  it  was  a  long  time  to  remember  a  picture  seen  only 
by  the  flicker  of  a  camp-fire  and  starshine,  and  the  woman 
of  Tisdale's  imagination  clouded  out  the  face  he  tried  to 
recall.  "  Still  Weatherbee  was  so  sensitive,  so  fine,"  he 
argued  with  himself.  "  A  woman  must  have  possessed 
more  than  a  beautiful  body  to  have  become  the  center  of 
his  life.  She  must,  at  the  start,  have  possessed  some  ca- 
pacity of  feeling." 

He  put  his  thumb  on  the  spring  to  open  the  lower  case, 
but  the  image  so  clearly  fixed  in  his  mind  stayed  the  im- 
pulse. "What  is  the  use.?  "  he  exclaimed,  and  thrusting 
the  watch  back  into  the  bag,  quickly  tied  the  string.  "  I 
don't  want  to  see  you.  I  don't  want  to  know  you,"  and  he 
added,  pushing  the  poke  into  its  place  and  closing  the  box : 
"  The  facts  are  all  against  you." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SNOQUALMIE  PASS  AND  A  BROKEN  AXl^E 

TISDALE  leaned  forward  in  his  seat  in  the  observation 
car.  His  rugged  features  worked  a  little,  and  his 
eyes  had  their  far-sighted  gaze.  Scarred  buttes  crowded 
the  track;  great  firs,  clinging  with  exposed  roots  to  the 
bluffs,  leaned  in  menace,  and  above  the  timber  belt  granite 
pyramids  and  fingers  shone  amethyst  against  the  sky; 
then  a  giant  door  closed  on  this  vestibule  of  the  Pass,  and 
he  was  in  an  amphitheatre  of  lofty  peaks.  The  eastbound 
began  to  wind  and  lift  like  a  leviathan  seeking  a  way 
through.  It  crept  along  a  tilting  shelf,  rounded  a  sheer 
spur,  and  ran  shrieking  over  a  succession  of  trestles,  while 
the  noise  of  the  exhausts  rang  a  continuous  challenge  from 
shoulder  and  crag.  Then  suddenly  a  mighty  summit  built 
like  a  pulpit  of  the  gods  closed  behind,  and  a  company 
of  still  higher  mountains  encircled  the  gorge.  Every- 
where above  the  wooded  slopes  towered  castellated  heights 
•and  spires. 

Presently  a  near  cliff  came  between  him  and  the  higher 
view  and,  with  a  lift  and  drop  of  his  square  shoulders,  he 
settled  back  in  his  chair.  He  drew  his  hand  across  his 
eyes,  the  humorous  lines  deepened  and,  like  one  admitting 
a  weakness,  he  shook  his  head.  It  was  always  so ;  the  sight 
of  any  mountains,  a  patch  of  snow  on  a  far  blue  ridge,  set 
his  pulses  singing;  wakened  the  wanderlust  for  the  big 
spaces  in  God's  out-of-doors.  And  this  canyon  of  the 
Snoqualmie  was  old,  familiar  ground.  He  had  served  his 
surveyor's  apprenticeship  on  these  western  slopes  of  the 
Cascades.     He   had   triangulated   most   of   these   peaks. 


38        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

named  some  of  them,  and  he  had  carried  a  transit  to  these; 
headwaters,  following  his  axman  often  over  a  new  trail. 
Now,  far,  far  down  between  the  columns  of  hemlock  and 
fir,  he  caught  glimpses  of  the  State  road  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  stream  that,  like  a  lost  river,  went  forever 
seeking  a  way  out,  and  finally,  for  an  instant  he  saw  a 
cabin  set  like  a  toy  house  at  the  wooden  bridge  where 
the  thoroughfare  crossed.  Then  the  eastbound,  having 
made  a  great  loop,  found  another  hidden  gateway  and 
moved  up  to  the  levels  above  Lake  Keechelus.  The 
whistle  signalled  a  mountain  station,  and  Tisdale  rose  and 
went  out  to  the  platform;  when  the  trucks  jolted  to  a 
standstill,  he  swung  himself  down  to  the  ground  to  enjoy 
a  breath  of  the  fine  air. 

The  next  moment  he  found  himself  almost  upon  a 
wrecked  automobile.  He  saw  in  a  flash  that  the  road, 
coming  through  a  cut,  crossed  the  railroad  track,  and 
that  in  making  a  quick  turn  to  avoid  the  end  of  the  slow- 
ing train,  the  chauffeur  had  forced  the  car  into  the  bank. 
The  machine  was  still  upright,  but  it  listed  forward  on  a 
broken  axle.  A  young  woman  who  had  kept  her  seat  in 
the  tonneau  was  nursing  a  painful  wrist,  while  two  girls, 
who  evidently  had  come  through  the  accident  unscathed, 
were  trying  to  help  the  only  man  of  the  party  up  from 
the  ground.  Tisdale  bent  to  give  him  the  support  of  his 
shoulder,  and,  groaning,  the  stranger  settled  against 
the  side  of  his  car  and  into  a  sitting  position  on  the  edge 
of  the  floor,  easing  an  injured  leg.  He  had  also  received 
an  ugly  hurt  above  his  brows,  which  were  heavy  and  black 
and  met  in  an  angle  over  a  prominent  nose. 

The  lady  in  the  tonneau  and  one  of  the  girls  had  thei 
same  marked  features  and  the  same  brilliant  dark  eyes, 
though  the  retreating  chin,  which  in  the  man  amounted 
to  almost  a  blemish,  in  them  was  modified.  But  the  last 
one  in  the  party,  whom  Tisdale  had  noticed  first,  was  not 


SNOQUALMIE  PASS  39 

like  the  rest.  She  was  not  like  any  one  in  the  world  he 
had  seen  before.  From  the  hem  of  her  light  gray  motor- 
ing coat  to  the  crown  of  her  big  hat,  she  was  a  delight 
to  the  eyes.  The  veil  that  tied  the  hat  down  framed  a 
face  full  of  a  piquant  yet  delicate  charm.  She  was 
watching  the  man  huddled  against  the  machine,  and  her 
mouth,  parted  a  little,  showed  the  upper  lip  short  with 
the  upward  curves  of  a  bow.  It  was  as  though  words 
were  arrested,  half  spoken,  and  her  eyes,  shadowy  under 
curling  dark  lashes,  held  their  expression,  uncertain 
whether  to  sparkle  out  or  to  cloud. 

After  a  moment  the  man  lifted  his  head  and,  meeting  her 
look,  smiled.  "  I'm  all  right,"  he  said,  "  only  I've 
wrenched  this  knee;  sprained  it,  I  guess.  And  my  head 
feels  like  a  drum." 

"  Oh,  I  am  —  glad  " —  her  voice  fluctuated  softly,  but 
the  sparkle  broke  in  her  eyes  — "  that  it  isn't  worse. 
Would  you  like  a  glass  of  ice-water  from  the  train?  A 
porter  is  coming  and  the  conductor,  too.  I  will  ask  for 
anything." 

He  smiled  again.  "  You'll  get  it,  if  you  do.  But  what 
I  want  most  just  now  is  a  glass  of  that  port.  Elizabeth," 
and  his  glance  moved  to  the  other  girl,  "  where  did  you  put 
that  hamper.''  " 

Elizabeth,  followed  by  the  porter,  hurried  around  to 
the  other  side  of  the  automobile  to  find  the  basket,  and 
Tisdale  moved  a  few  steps  away,  waiting  to  see  if  he  could 
be  of  further  service. 

A  passenger  with  a  camera  and  an  alert,  inquiring  face 
had  come  down  from  the  day  coach.  He  wound  the  film 
key  and  focussed  for  a  closer  exposure,  but  no  one  no- 
ticed him.  At  that  moment  all  interest  centered  on  the 
man  who. was  hurt.  "Well,"  said  the  conductor  at  last, 
having  looked  the  group  and  the  situation  over,  "  what's 
the  trouble?" 


40        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

*'  Looks  like  a  broken  axle,  doesn't  it?  And  possibly  a 
broken  leg."  He  groaned  and  repeated  aggressively :  "A 
broken  axle.  With  the  worst  of  Snoqualmie  Pass  before 
us,  and  not  a  garage  or  a  repair  shop  within  fifty  miles." 

"  You  are  in  a  fix,  sure.  But  this  train  will  take 
you  through  the  Pass  to  Ellensburg,  and  there  ought  to 
be  a  hospital  and  a  garage  there.  Or  —  the  westbound 
passenger,  due  at  this  siding  in  seven  minutes  " —  the  con- 
ductor looked  at  his  watch  — "  could  put  you  back  in 
Seattle  at  eight-fifteen." 

"  Make  it  the  westbound ;  no  hospital  for  me.  Tele- 
graph for  a  drawing-room,  conductor,  and  notify  this 
station  agent  to  ship  the  machine  on  the  same  train.  And, 
Elizabeth,"  he  paused  to  take  the  drinking-cup  she  had 
filled,  "  you  look  up  a  telephone,  or  if  there  isn't  a  long 
distance,  telegraph  James.  Tell  him  to  have  a  couple  of 
doctors,  Hillis  and  Norton,  to  meet  the  eight-fifteen;  and 
to  bring  the  limousine  down  with  plenty  of  pillows  and 
comforters."  He  drained  the  cup  and  dropped  it  into  the 
open  hamper.  "  Now,  porter,"  he  added,  "  if  you  hurry 
up  a  cocktail,  the  right  sort,  before  that  westbound  gets 
here,  it  means  a  five  to  you." 

As  these  various  messengers  scurried  away,  the  girl  who 
remained  picked  up  the  cup  and  poured  a  draught  of  wine 
for  the  lady  in  the  tonneau.  "  I  am  so  sorry,  but  it  was 
the  only  way.     Do  you  think  it  is  a  sprain?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes."  The  older  woman  took  the  cup  in  her  left  hand. 
She  had  a  deep,  carrying  voice,  and  she  added,  looking  at 
the  injured  wrist:  "  It's  swelling  frightfully,  but  it  saved 
my  face;  I  might  have  had  just  such  a  hideous  wound  as 
Frederic's.  Isn't  it  a  relief  to  hear  him  talking  so  ra- 
tionally?" 

Th-e  girl  nodded.  ''  He  seems  quite  himself,"  she  said 
gravely.  But  she  turned  to  cover  the  mirth  in  her  eyes; 
it    suffused   her   face,   her   whole    charming   personality. 


SNOQUALMIE  PASS  41 

Then  suddenly,  at  the  moment  the  flow  was  highest,  came 
the  ebb.  Her  glance  met  Tisdale's  clear,  appraising  look, 
and  she  stood  silent  and  aloof. 

He  looked  away  and,  after  a  moment,  seeing  nothing 
further  to  do,  started  back  to  his  train.  She  turned  to 
take  the  empty  cup,  and  as  she  closed  the  hamper  the 
whistle  of  the  westbound  sounded  through  the  gorge. 

Tisdale  walked  on  through  the  observation  car  to  the 
rear  platform  and  stood  looking  absently  off  through  an 
aisle  of  Alpine  firs  that,  parklike,  bordered  the  track.  It 
was  a  long  time  since  the  sight  of  a  pretty  woman  had  so 
quickened  his  blood.  He  had  believed  that  for  him  this 
sort  of  thing  was  over,  and  he  laughed  at  himself  a  little. 

The  westbound  rumbled  to  a  stop  on  the  parallel  track, 
he  felt  the  trucks  under  him  start,  and  an  unaccountable 
depression  came  over  him ;  the  next  moment  he  heard  a 
soft  voice  directing  the  porter  behind  him,  and  as  unac- 
countably his  heart  rose.  The  girl  came  on  through  the 
open  door  and  stopped  beside  him,  bracing  herself  with  one 
hand  on  the  railing,  while  she  waved  her  handkerchief  to 
the  group  she  had  left.  He  caught  a  faint,  clean  perfume 
suggesting  violets,  the  wind  lifted  the  end  of  her  veil 
across  his  shoulder,  and  something  of  her  exhilaration  was 
transmitted  to  the  currents  in  his  veins.  "  Good-by, 
Elizabeth,"  she  called.     "  Good-by.     Good-by." 

Some  trainmen  were  getting  the  injured  man  aboard 
the  westbound  passenger,  and  the  lady  who  had  left  the 
wrecked  automobile  to  go  with  him  sent  back  a  sonorous 
"  Au  revoir."  But  Elizabeth,  who  was  hurrying  down 
from  the  station  where  she  had  accomplished  her  errand, 
turned  in  astonishment  to  look  after  the  speeding  east- 
bound.     Then  a  rocky  knob  closed  all  this  from  sight. 

The  girl  on  the  platform  turned,  and  Tisdale  moved  a 
little  to  let  her  pass.  At  the  same  time  the  lurching  of 
the  car,  as  it  swung  to  the  curve,  threw  her  against  him. 


42        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

It  all  happened  very  quickly;  he  steadied  her  with  his 
arm,  and  she  drew  back  in  confusion;  he  raised  his  hand 
to  his  head  and,  remembering  he  had  left  his  hat  in  his 
seat,  a  flush  shaded  through  his  tan.  Then,  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  she  said  and  hurried  by  him  through  the 
door. 

Tisdale  stood  smoothing  his  wind-ruffled  hair  and 
watching  the  receding  clifF.  "  Her  eyes  are  hazel,"  he 
thought,  "  with  turquoise  lights.  I  never  heard  of  such 
a  combination,  but  —  it's  fine." 

A  little  later,  when  he  went  in  to  take  his  seat,  he  found 
her  in  the  chair  across  the  aisle.  The  train  was  skirting 
the  bluffs  of  Keechelus  then,  and  she  had  taken  off  her 
coat  and  hat  and  sat  watching  the  unfolding  lake.  His 
side  glance  swept  her  slender,  gray-clad  figure  to  the  toe 
of  one  trim  shoe,  braced  lightly  on  her  footstool,  and  re- 
turned to  her  face.  In  profile  it  was  a  new  delight.  One 
caught  the  upward  curl  of  her  black  lashes ;  the  sugges- 
tion of  a  fault  in  the  tip  of  her  high,  yet  delicately  chis- 
eled nose;  the  piquant  curve  of  her  short  upper  lip;  the 
full  contour  of  the  lifted  chin.  Her  hair,  roughened 
some,  was  soft  and  fine  and  black  with  bluish  tones. 

The  temptation  to  watch  her  was  very  great,  and 
Tisdale  squared  his  shoulders  resolutely  and  swung 
his  chair  more  towards  his  own  window,  which  did  not 
afford  a  view  of  the  lake.  He  wanted  to  see  this  new 
railroad  route  through  the  Cascades.  This  Pass  of  Sno- 
qualmie  had  always  been  his  choice  of  a  transcontinental 
line.  And  he  was  approaching  new  territory;  he  never 
had  pushed  down  the  eastern  side  from  the  divide.  He 
had  chosen  this  roundabout  way  purposely,  with  thirty 
miles  of  horseback  at  the  end,  when  the  Great  Northern 
would  have  put  him  directly  into  the  Wenatchee  Valley 
and  within  a  few  miles  of  that  tract  of  Weatherbee's  he 
was  going  to  see. 


SNOQUALMIE  PASS  48 

There  were  few  travelers  in  the  observation  car,  and  for 
a  while  nothing  broke  the  silence  but  the  clamp  and  rush 
of  the  wheels  on  the  down-grade,  then  the  man  with  a  cam- 
era entered  and  came  down  the  aisle  as  far  as  the  new 
passenger's  chair.  "  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,"  he  said, 
"  I'm  Daniels,  representing  the  Seattle  Press,  and  I 
thought  you  would  like  to  see  this  story  go  in  straight." 

Tisdale  swung  his  chair  a  little  towards  the  open  rear 
door,  so  that  he  was  able  to  watch  without  seeming  to 
see  the  progress  of  the  comedy.  He  was  quick  enough  to 
catch  the  sweeping  look  she  gave  the  intruder,  aloof  yet 
fearless,  as  though  she  saw  him  across  an  invisible  bar- 
rier. "  You  mean  you  are  a  reporter,"  she  asked  quietly, 
"  and  are  writing  an  account  of  the  accident  for  your 
newspaper.''  " 

"  Yes."  Daniels  dropped  his  cap  into  the  next  chair 
and  seated  himself  airily  on  the  arm.  The  camera  swung 
by  a  carrying  strap  from  his  shoulder,  and  he  opened  a 
notebook,  which  he  supported  on  his  knee  while  he  felt 
in  his  pocket  for  a  pencil.  "  Of  course  I  recognized 
young  Morganstein ;  everybody  knows  him  and  that  choco- 
late car;  he's  been  run  in  so  often  for  speeding  about 
town.  And  I  suppose  he  was  touring  through  Snoqual- 
mie  Pass  to  the  races  at  North  Yakima  fair.  There 
should  be  some  horses  there  worth  going  to  see." 

"  We  meant  to  spend  a  day  or  two  at  the  fair,"  she  ad- 
mitted, "  but  we  expected  to  motor  on,  exploring  a  little 
in  the  neighborhood." 

"  I  see.  Up  the  valley  to  have  a  look  at  the  big  irri- 
gation dam  the  Government  is  putting  in  and  maybe  on 
to  see  the  great  Tieton  bore.  That  would  have  been  a 
fine  trip ;  sorry  you  missed  it."  Daniels  paused  to  place 
several  dots  and  hooks  on  his  page.  "  I  recognized 
Miss  Morganstein,  too,"  he  went  on,  "  though  she  was 
too  busy  to  notice  me.     I  met  her  when  I  was  taking  my 


44        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

course  in  journalism  at  the  State  University;  danced  with 
her  at  the  Junior  Prom.  And  the  other  lady,  whose  wrist 
was  sprained,  must  have  been  her  sister,  Mrs.  Feversham. 
I  was  detailed  to  interview  the  new  Alaska  delegate  when 
he  passed  through  Seattle,  and  I  understood  his  wife  was 
to  join  him  later.  She  was  stopping  over  for  a  visit, 
and  the  society  editor  called  my  attention  to  a  mighty 
good  picture  of  her  in  last  Sunday's  issue.  Do  you 
know? — "  he  paused,  looking  into  the  girl's  face  with  a 
curious  scrutiny,  "  there  was  another  fine  reproduction 
on  that  page  that  you  might  have  posed  for.  The  lady 
served  tea  or  punch  or  did  something  at  the  same  affair. 
But  I  can't  remember  her  name  —  I've  tried  ever  since  we 
left  that  station  —  though  seems  to  me  it  was  a  married 
one." 

"  I  remember  the  picture  you  mean ;  I  remember.  And 
I  was  there.  It  was  a  bridge-luncheon  at  the  Country  Club 
in  honor  of  Mrs.  Feversham.  And  she  —  the  lady  you 
were  reminded  of  —  won  the  prize.  So  you  think  I  re- 
semble that  photograph?"  She  tipped  her  head  back  a 
little,  holding  his  glance  with  her  half-veiled  eyes. 
"  What  an  imagination  !  " 

"  Of  course  if  you  did  pose  for  that  picture,  it  doesn't 
do  you  half  justice;  I  admit  that.  But" — regarding 
her  with  a  wavering  doubt — "  I  guess  I've  been  jumping 
at  conclusions  again.  They  call  me  the  '  Novelist '  at 
the  office."  He  paused,  laughing  off  a  momentary  em- 
barrassment. "  That's  why  I  didn't  want  to  depend  on 
getting  your  name  from  the  society  editor." 

"  I  am  glad  you  did  not.  It  would  have  been  very  an- 
noying, I'm  sure  —  to  the  lady.  I  suppose,"  she  went  on 
slowly,  while  the  glamour  grew  in  her  eyes,  "  I  suppose 
nothing  could  induce  you  to  keep  this  story  out  of  the 
Press  r 

He  pursed  his  lips  and  shook  his  head  decidedly.     ''  I 


SNOQUALMIE  PASS  45 

don't  see  how  I  can.  I'd  do  'most  anything  to  oblige  you, 
but  this  is  the  biggest  scoop  I  ever  fell  into.  The  fellows 
detailed  by  the  other  papers  to  report  the  fair  went 
straight  through  by  way  of  the  Northern  Pacific.  I  was 
the  only  reporter  at  the  wreck." 

"  I  understand,  but,"  her  voice  fluctuated  softly,  "  I  dis- 
like publicity  so  intensely.  Of  course  it's  diff^erent  with 
Mrs.  Feversham.  She  is  accustomed  to  newspaper  notice; 
her  husband  and  brother  are  so  compietely  in  the  public 
eye.  But  since  you  must  use  the  story,  couldn't  you  sup- 
press my  name.f^  " 

"  Oh,  but  how  could  I .?  The  whole  story  hinges  on  you. 
You  were  driving  the  machine.  I  saw  you  from  the  train 
window  as  you  came  through  the  cut.  You  handled  the 
gear  like  an  imported  chauffeur,  but  it  was  steep  there  on 
the  app.roach,  and  the  car  began  to  skid.  I  saw  in  a  flash 
what  was  going  to  happen;  it  made  me  limp  as  a  rag. 
But  there  was  a  chance, —  the  merest  hairbreadth,  and 
you  took  it."  He  waited  a  moment,  then  said,  smiling: 
"  That  was  a  picture  worth  snapping,  but  I  was  too  batty 
to  think  of  it  in  time.  You  see,"  he  went  on  seriously, 
"  the  leading  character  in  this  story  is  you.  And  it  means 
a  lot  to  me.  I  was  going  to  be  fired ;  honest  I  was.  The 
old  man  told  me  he  wasn't  looking  for  any  Treasure  Island 
genius ;  what  his  paper  needed  was  plain  facts.  Then  his 
big  heart  got  the  upper  hand,  and  he  called  me  back. 
*  Jimmie,'  he  said,  '  there's  good  stuff  in  you,  and  I  am  go- 
ing to  give  you  one  more  trial.  Go  over  to  North  Yak- 
ima and  tell  us  about  the  fair.  Take  the  new  Milwaukee 
line  as  far  as  Ellensburg  and  pick  up  something  about 
the  automobile  road  through  Snoqualmie  Pass.  But  re- 
member, cut  out  the  fiction ;  keep  to  facts ! '  " 

"  I  understand,"  she  repeated  gravely,  "  I  understand. 
The  accident  came  opportunely.  It  was  life  and  color  to 
your  setting  and  demonstrates  the  need  of  a  better  road. 


46        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  most  I  can  hope  is  that  you  will  not  exaggerate  or  — • 
or  put  us  in  a  ridiculous  light." 

"  I  swear  to  that."  He  settled  his  notebook  again  on 
his  knee  and  lifted  his  pencil.  "  Nothing  sensational,"  he 
added,  '*  nothing  annoying ;  now  please  give  me  your 
name." 

"  Well,  then,  write  Miss  Armitage." 

"  Miss  Armitage.     Thank  you.     Miss  Armitage  of?  " 

"  San  Francisco." 

*'  Of  San  Francisco ;  and  visiting  the  Morgansteins,  of 
course.  But  going  on  now  alone  to  meet  the  friends  who 
ai*e  expecting  you  —  am  I  right  ?  —  at  North  Yakima." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  and  she  moved  a  little  in  her 
chair.  "  Where  I  am  going  now,"  she  said,  and  looked  at 
him  once  more  across  the  invisible  barrier,  "  is  another 
story." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon."  Daniels  laughed  and,  rising 
from  his  perch  on  the  chair  arm,  put  his  notebook  in  his 
pocket.  "  And  I'm  awfully  grateful.  If  ever  I  can  be  of 
service  to  you,  I  hope  you'll  let  me  know."  He  started  up 
the  car,  then  paused  to  say  over  his  shoulder :  "  The  light 
for  photography  was  fine ;  the  old  man  will  double  column 
every  illustration." 

"  Illustrations  ?  "  She  started  up  in  dismay.  "  Oh, 
no.     Please  —  I  couldn't  endure — " 

But  Jimmie  Daniels,  with  the  camera  swinging  to  his 
quick  step,  hurried  on  to  the  vestibule. 

She  settled  back  in  her  seat,  and  for  a  moment  her  con- 
sternation grew;  then  the  humor  of  the  situation  must 
have  dawned  on  her,  for  suddenly  the  sparkles  danced  in 
her  eyes.  Her  glance  met  Tisdale's  briefly  and,  suppress 
it  as  he  tried,  his  own  smile  broke  at  the  comers  of  his 
mouth.     He  rose  and  walked  out  again  to  the  platform. 

This  was  the  rarest  woman  on  earth.  She  was  able  to 
appreciate  a  joke  at  her  own  expense.     Clearly  she  had 


SlSrOQUALMIE  PASS  4T 

"finessed,  then,  in  the  instant  she  had  been  sure  of  the  game, 
she  had  met  and  accepted  defeat  with  a  smile.  But  he 
would  like  to  discipline  that  fellow  Daniels ;  —  here  he 
frowned  —  those  films  should  be  destroyed.  Still,  the  boy 
would  hardly  give  them  up  peaceably  and  to  take  them 
otherwise  would  not  spare  her  the  publicity  she  so  desired 
to  avoid ;  such  a  scene  must  simply  furnish  fresh  material, 
a  new  chapter  to  the  story.  After  all,  not  one  newspaper 
cut  in  a  hundred  could  be  recognized.  It  was  certain  she 
was  in  no  need  of  a  champion ;  he  never  had  seen  a  woman 
so  well  equipped,  so  sure  of  herself  and  her  weapons, 
and  yet  so  altogether  feminine.  If  Foster  had  but  known 
her. 

Instantly,  in  sharp  contrast  to  this  delightful  stranger, 
rose  the  woman  of  his  imagination;  the  idle  spendthrift 
who  had  cast  her  spell  over  level-headed  Foster;  who  had 
wrecked  David  Weatherbee;  and  his  face  hardened.  A 
personal  interview,  he  told  himself  presently,  would  be 
worse  than  useless.  There  was  no  way  to  reach  a  woman 
like  her;  she  was  past  appeal.  But  he  would  take  that 
tract  of  desert  off  her  hands  at  her  price,  and  perhaps, 
while  the  money  lasted,  she  would  let  Foster  alone. 

The  train  had  left  Lake  Keechelus  and  was  racing  easily 
down  the  banks  of  the  Yakima.  He  was  entering  the  coun- 
try he  had  desired  to  see,  and  soon  his  interest  wakened. 
He  seated  himself  to  watch  the  heights  that  seemed  to  move 
in  quick  succession  like  the  endlessly  closing  gates  of  the 
Pass.  The  track  still  ran  shelf-wise  along  precipitous 
knobs  and  ridges ;  sometimes  it  bored  through.  The  for- 
ests of  fir  and  hemlock  were  replaced  by  thinning  groves  of 
pine;  then  appeared  the  first  bare,  sage-mottled  dune. 
The  trucks  rumbled  over  a  bit  of  trestle,  and  for  an  in- 
stant he  saw  the  intake  of  an  irrigating  canal,  and  finally, 
after  a  last  tunnel,  the  eastbound  steamed  out  of  the 
canyon  into  a  broad,  mountain-locked  plateau.     Every- 


48        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

where,  watered  by  the  brimming  ditch,  stretched  fields  of 
vivid  alfalfa  or  ripe  grain.  Where  the  harvesting  was 
over,  herds  of  fine  horses  and  cattle  or  great  flocks  of  sheep 
were  turned  in  to  browse  on  the  stubble.  At  rare  intervals 
a  sage-grown  breadth  of  unreclaimed  land,  like  a  ragged 
blemish,  divided  these  farms.  Then,  when  the  arid  slopes 
began  to  crowd  again,  the  train  whistled  Ellensburg  on 
the  lower  rim  of  the  plain. 

Tisdale  left  his  seat  to  lean  over  the  railing  and  look 
ahead.  He  was  in  time  to  catch  a  fleeting  glimpse  of 
Jimmie  Daniels  as  he  hurried  out  of  the  telegraph  office 
and  sprang  on  the  step  of  a  starting  bus.  It  was  here  the 
young  newspaper  man  was  to  transfer  to  the  Northern 
Pacific,  and  doubtless  the  girl  too  was  changing  trains. 
The  Milwaukee,  beyond  Ellensburg,  passed  through  new, 
unbroken  country  for  many  miles ;  the  stations  were  all  in 
embryo,  and  even  though  she  may  not  have  resumed  her 
journey  at  the  Pass  with  the  intention  of  stopping  off  at 
the  fair,  the  same  bus  was  probably  taking  her  over  to  the 
old,  main  traveled  route  down  the  Yakima  to  the  Columbia. 

Again  that  unaccountable  depression  came  over  him. 
He  tried  to  throw  it  off,  laughing  at  himself  a  little  and 
lighting  a  cigar.  This  pretty  woman  had  happened  in  his 
path  like  a  flower ;  she  had  pleased  his  eyes  for  a  few  hours 
and  was  gone.  But  what  possible  difference  could  her 
coming  and  going  make  to  him? 

The  train  started,  and  he  settled  back  in  his  seat.  The 
fertile  fields  were  left  behind,  then  presently  the  eastbound 
steamed  through  a  gap  in  a  sun-baked  ridge  and  entered 
a  great  arid  level.  Sage-brush  stretched  limitless,  and  the 
dull  green  of  each  bush,  powdered  with  dust,  made  a 
grayer  blotch  on  the  pale  shifting  soil,  that  every  chance 
zephyr  lifted  in  swirls  and  scattered  like  ashes.  Sometimes 
a  whiter  patch  showed  where  alkali  streaked  through.  It 
was  like  coming  into  an  old,  worn-out  world.     The  sun 


SNOQUAjLMIE  pass  49 

burned  pitilessly,  and  when  finally  the  train  had  crossed 
this  plain  and  began  to  wind  through  lofty  dunes,  the  heat 
pent  between  the  slopes  became  stifling.  The  rear  plat- 
for'm  was  growing  intolerable,  and  he  knew  his  station 
could  not  be  far  off^.  He  rose  to  go  in,  but  the  eastbound 
suddenly  plunged  into  the  coolness  of  a  tunnel,  and  he 
waited  while  it  bored  through  to  daylight  and  moved  on 
along  a  shelf  overlooking  a  dry  run.  Then,  as  he  turned 
to  the  open  door,  he  saw  the  girl  had  not  taken  the  North- 
ern Pacific  at  EUensburg.  She  was  still  there  in  the  ob- 
servation car. 

Her  eyes  were  closed,  and  he  noticed  as  he  went  forward 
that  her  breast  rose  and  fell  gently ;  the  shorter,  loose  hair 
formed  damp,  cool  little  rings  on  her  forehead  and  about 
her  ears.  She  was  sleeping  in  her  chair.  But  a  turn  in 
the  track  brought  the  sun  streaming  through  her  window ; 
the  polished  ceiling  reflected  the  glare,  and  he  stopped  to 
reach  carefully  and  draw  the  blind.  A  moment  later  the 
whistle  shrieked,  and  the  conductor  called  his  station.  He 
hurried  on  up  the  aisle  and,  finding  his  satchel  in  the  vesti- 
bule, stood  waiting  until  the  car  jolted  to  a  stop,  then 
swung  himself  off^.  But  the  porter  followed  with  a  suitcase 
and  placed  his  stool,  and  the  next  instant  the  girl  ap- 
peared. She  carried  her  hat  in  her  hands,  her  coat  was 
tucked  under  her  arm,  and  as  she  stepped  down  beside  Tis- 
dale,  the  bell  began  to  ring,  the  porter  sprang  aboard,  and 
the  train  went  speeding  ahead. 

The  station  was  only  a  telegraph  ofl5ce,  flanked  by  a 
water-tank  on  a  siding.  There  was  no  waiting  hotel  bus, 
no  cab,  no  vehicle  of  any  kind.  The  small  building  rose 
like  an  islet  out  of  a.  gi'ay  sea^  Far  off^  through  billowing 
swells  one  other  islet  appeared,  but  these  two  passengers 
the  eastbound  had  left  were  like  a  man  and  woman  ma- 
rooned. 


CHAPTER  V 

APPLES    OP    EDEN 

TISDALE  stood  looking  after  the  train  while  the  girl's 
swift,  startled  glance  swept  the  billowing  desert  and 
with  growing  dismay  searched  the  draw  below  the  station. 
"  There  isn't  a  town  in  sight ! "  she  exclaimed,  and  her  lip 
trembled.  "  Not  a  taxi  or  even  a  stage ! "  And  she 
added,  moving  and  lifting  her  eyes  to  meet  his :  "  What 
am  I  to  do?" 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  madam,"  he  paused,  and  the  genial  lines 
broke  lightly  in  his  face,  "  but  I  could  find  out  quicker  if  I 
knew  where  you  want  to  go." 

"  To  Wenatchee.  And  I  tho  —  ought  —  I  understood 
—  the  conductor  told  me  you  were  going  there,  and  this 
was  your  stop.  It  was  his  first  trip  over  the  new  Mil- 
waukee, and  we  trusted  —  to  you." 

Tisdale  pursed  his  lips,  shaking  his  head  slowly.  "  I 
guess  I  am  responsible.  I  did  tell  that  conductor  I  was 
going  to  Wenatchee  when  I  asked  him  to  drop  me  at  this 
siding,  but  I  should  have  explained  I  expected  to  find  a 
saddle-horse  here  and  take  a  cut-ofF  to  strike  the  Ellens- 
burg  road.  It  should  save  an  hour."  He  drew  a  Govern- 
ment map  of  the  quadrangle  of  that  section  from  his 
pocket  and  opened  it.  "  You  see,  your  stop  was  Ellens- 
burg;  the  only  through  road  starts  there."  He  found 
the  thoroughfare  and  began  to  trace  it  with  his  forefinger. 
"  It  crosses  rugged  country ;  follows  the  canyons  through 
these  spurs  of  the  Cascades.  They  push  down  sheer  to 
the  Columbia.     See  the  big  bend  it  makes,  flowing  south 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  •     51 

for  miles  along  the  mountains  trying  to  find  a  way  out  to 
the  Pacific.  The  river  ought  to  be  off  there."  He  paused 
and  swung  on  his  heel  to  look  eastward.  "  It  isn't  far 
from  this  station.  But  even  if  we  reached  it,  it  would  be 
up-stream,  against  a  succession'  of  rapids,  from  here  to 
Wenatchee.  A  boat  would  be  impossible."  He  folded 
the  plat  and  put  it  away,  then  asked  abruptly :  "  Do  you 
ride,  madam?  " 

She  gave  him  a  swift  side-glance  and  looked  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  hidden  Columbia.  "  Sometimes  —  but  I 
haven't  a  riding  habit." 

Tisdale  waited.  The  humor  deepened  a  little  at  the 
comers  of  his  mouth.  There  was  but  one  passenger  train 
each  way  daily  on  the  newly  opened  Milwaukee  road,  and 
plainly  she  could  not  remain  at  this  siding  alone  all  night ; 
yet  she  was  debating  the  propriety  of  riding  through  the 
mountains  to  Wenatchee  with  him.  Then  unexpectedly 
the  click  of  a  telegraph  cut  the  stillness,  and  a  sudden 
brightness  leaped  in  her  face.  "  A  station  master,"  she 
cried ;  "  perhaps  there's  a  telephone."  And  she  hurried 
up  the  platform  to  the  open  oflSce  door. 

Tisdale  slowly  followed. 

The  station  master,  having  transmitted  his  message, 
swung  around  on  his  stool,  and  got  to  his  feet  in  astonish- 
ment on  seeing  the  girl. 

"  I  have  made  a  mistake,"  she  said,  with  a  wavering 
glance  over  the  interior,  "  and  I  tho  —  ought,  I  hoped 
there  was  a  telephone.  But  you  can  conmiunicate  with  the 
nearest  garage  for  me,  can  you  not?  Or  a  stable  —  or 
—  somewhere.  You  see,"  and  for  an  instant  the  coquetry 
of  a  pretty  woman  who  knows  she  is  pretty  beamed  in  her 
eyes,  "  I  really  must  have  a  taxicab  or  some  kind  of  a 
carriage  to  take  me  back  to  Ellensburg." 

The  station  master,  who  was  a  very  young  man,  an- 
swered her  smile  and,  reaching  to  take  a  coat  from  a  peg 


52        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

on  the  wall,  hastily  slipped  it  on.  "  Of  course  I  could 
call  up  EUensburg,"  he  said ;  "  that's  the  nearest  for  a 
machine.  But  it  belongs  to  the  doctor,  and  even  if  he 
was  in  town  and  could  spare  it,  it  would  take  till  dark 
to  bring  it  down.  It's  a  mean  road  over  sandhills  for 
thirty-five  miles." 

"  It  is  hardly  farther  than  that  to  Wenatchee,"  said 
Tisdale  quietly.  "  With  good  saddle-horses  we  should  be 
able  to  make  it  as  soon.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
the  trail  through  to  tap  the  Ellensburg-Wenatchee  high- 
way ?  " 

The  station  master  came  around  the  end  of  his  desk. 
"  So  you  are  going  to  Wenatchee,"  he  exclaimed,  and  his 
face  shone  with  a  sort  of  inner  glow.  "  I  guess  then  you 
must  have  heard  about  Hesperides  Vale;  the  air's  full  of 
it,  and  while  land  is  selling  next  to  nothing  you  want  to 
get  in  on  the  ground  floor.  Yes,  sir,"  his  voice  quickened, 
"  I  own  property  over  there,  and  I  came  that  way,  up  the 
mountain  road,  in  the  spring  to  take  this  position  when 
the  Milwaukee  opened.  But  I  don't  know  much  about 
your  cut-ofF;  I  just  kept  on  to  EUensburg  and  dropped 
down  by  train  from  there.  The  main  road,  though,  was 
in  pretty  good  shape.  It's  the  old  stage  road  that  used 
to  connect  with  the  Northern  Pacific,  and  they  had  to  do 
some  mighty  heavy  hauling  over  it  while  the  mountain  di- 
vision of  the  Great  Northern  was  building  up  the  Wen- 
atchee. It  keeps  an  easy  grade,  following  the  canyons 
up  and  up  till  it's  six  thousand  feet  at  the  divide,  then 
you  begin  to  drop  to  the  Columbia.  And  when  you  leave 
the  woods,  it's  like  this  again,  bunch  grass  and  sage,  sand 
and  alkali,  for  twenty  miles.  Of  course  there  isn't  a  regu- 
lar stage  now ;  you  have  to  hire." 

"  Any  road-houses  ?  "  asked  Tisdale  briefly. 

*'  No,  but  you  come  across  a  ranch  once  in  awhile,  and 
any  of  them  would  take  a  man  in  over  night  —  or  a  lady." 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  63 

Tisdale  turned  to  the  door.  "  I  can  find  saddle-horses, 
I  presume,  at  that  ranch  off  there  through  the  draw.  Is 
it  the  nearest?  " 

"  The  nearest  and  the  only  one."  The  station  master 
walked  on  with  him  to  the  platform.  "  It's  a  new  place. 
They  are  working  two  teams,  every  day  and  Sunday,  while 
daylight  lasts,  grubbing  out  the  sage-brush  for  planting. 
It's  a  pumping  layout  to  bring  water  from  the  Columbia, 
and  they  are  starting  with  forty  acres  all  in  apples." 

"  But  they  have  saddle-horses  ?  "  said  Tisdale,  frown- 
ing. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that.  The  fellow  I  talked  with  came 
over  for  freight  and  used  one  of  the  teams.  Said  they 
couldn't  spare  it.  But  that's  your  only  chance.  I  don't 
know  of  any  other  horses  in  twenty  miles,  unless  it's  a  wild 
band  that  passed  this  morning.  They  stopped  down  the 
draw,  nosing  out  the  bunch  grass  for  an  hour  or  two,  then 
skidooed." 

Tisdale  paused  a  thoughtful  moment  then  asked: 
"When  is  the  next  freight  due  on  this  siding.?  " 

"  Two-forty-five.  And  say  " —  he  slapped  his  knee  at 
the  sudden  thought  — "  that's  your  chance,  sure.  I  have 
orders  to  hold  them  for  the  eastbound  silk  train,  and 
they'll  let  you  ride  in  the  caboose  up  to  Kittitas.  That's 
the  stop  this  side  of  Ellensburg,  and  there's  a  livery 
there,  with  a  cross-road  to  strike  the  Ellensburg-Wen- 
atchee.  But,  say!  If  you  do  drop  off  at  Kittitas,  ask 
Lighter  to  show  you  the  colts.  They  are  the  star  team 
in  three  counties.  Took  the  prize  at  North  Yakima  last 
year  for  three-year-olds.  They're  too  fly  for  livery  work, 
but  if  you  can  drive,  and  Lighter  likes  your  looks  " —  the 
station  master  gave  Tisdale  a  careful  scrutiny  — "  and 
you  have  his  price,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  could  hire 
Nip  and  Tuck." 

Tisdale  laughed.     "  I  see.     If  I  can't  hire  them,  I  may 


54        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

be  allowed  the  privilege  to  buy  them.  But,"  and  he  looked 
at  his  watch,  "  there's  time  to  try  that  ranch." 

He  started  down  the  platform  then  stopped  to  look  back 
at  the  girl  who  had  followed  a  few  steps  from  the  thresh- 
old. Her  eyes  held  their  expression  of  uncertainty  whether 
to  sparkle  or  to  cloud,  and  he  read  the  arrested  ques- 
tion on  her  lips.  "  If  there  are  any  saddle-horses,"  he 
answered,  "  I  will  have  them  here  before  that  two-forty- 
five  freight  arrives,  but,"  and  he  smiled,  "  I  am  not  so 
sure  I  can  supply  the  proper  riding-suit.  And  the  most 
I  hope  for  in  saddles  is  just  a  small  Mexican." 

"  A  Mexican  is  easy  riding,"  she  said,  "  on  a  mountain 
road."  But  she  stood  watching  him,  with  the  uncertainty 
still  clouding  her  face,  while  he  moved  down  the  draw. 

He  wore  the  suit  of  gray  corduroy  it  was  his  habit  to 
wear  in  open  country,  with  leggings  of  russet  leather,  and 
he  traveled  very  swiftly,  with  a  long,  easy  stride,  though 
never  rapidly  enough  to  wholly  escape  the  dust  he  dis- 
turbed. Once  he  stopped  and  bent  to  fasten  a  loose  strap, 
and  then  he  took  off  his  coat,  which  he  folded  to  carry. 
The  pall  of  dust  enveloped  him.  In  it  his  actions  gath- 
ered mystery,  and  his  big  frame  loomed  indistinctly  like 
the  figure  of  a  genii  in  a  column  of  smoke.  The  fancy 
must  have  occurred  to  the  watcher  on  the  platform,  for  it 
was  then  the  sparkles  broke  in  her  eyes,  and  she  said 
aloud,  softly  clapping  her  hands :  "  I  wish  —  I  wish  it  to 
be  Nip  and  Tuck." 

"  So  do  I."  She  started  and  turned,  and  the  station 
master  smiled.  "  They're  beauties,  you  can  take  my 
word.     It  would  be  the  drive  of  your  life." 

He  carried  his  office  chair  around  the  comer  of  the 
building  to  place  for  her  in  the  shade.  Then  his  instru- 
ment called  him,  and  for  an  interval  she  was  left  alone. 
The  desert  stretched  before  her,  limitless,  in  the  glare  of 
the  afternoon  sun.     If  the  Columbia  flowed  in  that  neigh- 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  65 

borhood,  it  was  hidden  by  sand  dunes  and  decomposing 
cliffs  of  granite.  There  was  no  glimpse  of  water  any- 
where, not  a  green  blade ;  even  the  bunch  grass,  that  grew 
sparsely  between  the  sage-brush  through  the  draw,  was 
dry  and  gray.  For  a  while  no  sound  but  the  click  of  the 
telegraph  disturbed  the  great  silence,  then  a  hot  wind  came 
wailing  out  of  the  solitudes  and  passed  into  a  fastness  of 
the  mountains. 

Finally  the  station  master  returned.  "  Well,"  he  said 
genially,  "  how  are  you  making  it  ?     Lonesome,  I  guess." 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  can  you,  how  could  any 
human  being,  live  in  this  dead,  worn-out  world?  " 

"  It  is  desolate  now,"  he  admitted,  sending  a  thoughtful 
glance  over  the  arid  waste ;  "  it  must  seem  like  the  Great 
Sahara  to  you,  coming  into  it  for  the  first  time  and  di- 
rectly from  the  Puget  Sound  country.  I  remember  how 
I  felt  when  I  struck  the  Hesperides.  Why,  it  looked  like 
the  front  door  of  Hades  to  me ;  I  said  so,  and  I  called  my- 
self all  kinds  of  a  fool.  But  I  had  sunk  an  even  thousand 
dollars  in  a  twenty-acre  tract;  bought  it  off  a  real  estate 
map  over  in  Seattle,  without  seeing  the  ground."  He 
laughed,  half  in  embarrassment  at  the  confession,  and 
moved  to  take  a  more  comfortable  position  against  the 
wall.  "  I  was  in  a  railroad  office  in  Chicago,"  he  ex- 
plained, "  and  my  father  expected  me  to  work  up  to  the 
responsible  position  he  held  with  the  company  and  take  it 
when  he  was  through.  But  the  western  fever  caught  me ; 
I  wanted  to  come  to  Washington  and  grow  with  the  coun- 
try. He  couldn't  talk  me  out  of  it;  so  he  gave  me  that 
thousand  dollars  and  told  me  to  go  and  to  stay  till  I  made 
good." 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  how  hard !  How  miserable !  And 
you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  stayed.  There  wasn't  anything  else  to  do. 
[And  after  I  looked  around  the  valley  a  little  and  saw  the 


56        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Peshastin  ditch  and  what  it  could  do,  I  got  busy.  I  found 
work;  did  anything  that  turned  up  and  saved  like  a 
miser,  until  I  was  able  to  have  the  land  cleared  of  sage^ 
brush.  It  has  mean  roots,  you  know,  sprawling  in  all 
directions  like  the  branches.  Then  I  saved  to  make  con- 
nections with  the  ditch  and  to  buy  trees.  I  set  the  whole 
twenty  acres  to  apples  —  I  always  did  like  a  good  apple, 
and  I  had  sized  up  the  few  home  orchards  around  Wen- 
atchee  —  then  I  put  in  alfalfa  for  a  filler,  and  that  eased 
things,  and  I  settled  down  to  office  work,  small  pay,  lots 
of  time  to  plan,  and  waited  for  my  trees  to  grow.  That 
was  four  years  ago,  five  since  I  struck  the  Wenatchee 
valley,  and  this  season  they  came  into  bearing.  Now,  at 
the  end  of  this  month,  I  am  giving  up  my  position  with 
the  Milwaukee,  cutting  railroading  for  good,  to  go  over 
and  superintend  the  harvesting.  And  say  " —  he  stood 
erect,  the  inner  glow  illumined  his  face  — "  I've  had  an 
offer  for  my  crop ;  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  an  acre 
for  the  fruit  on  the  trees.  Three  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars for  a  four-year-old  orchard !  Think  of  that !  Seven 
thousand  clear  for  re-investment." 

"How  splendid!"  she  said,  and  in  that  instant  her 
face  seemed  to  catch  and  reflect  his  enthusiasm.  "  To 
have  waited,  fought  like  that  in  the  face  of  defeat,  and  to 
have  made  good." 

"  And  it's  only  the  beginning,"  his  voice  caught  a  lit- 
tle ;  "  an  apple  orchard  has  bigger  results  every  year  after 
maturity.  There's  a  man  over  there  on  the  Wenatchee 
who  is  going  to  make  a  thousand  dollar  profit  on  each 
acre  of  his  twelve-year  orchard.  You  ought  to  see  those 
trees,  all  braced  up  with  scaffolding,  only  fourteen  acres 
of  them,  but  every  branch  loaded.  But  that  orchard  is 
an  exception;  they  had  to  lift  water  from  the  river  with 
buckets  and  a  wheel,  and  most  of  the  pioneers  put  in 
grain.     Their  eyes  are  just  beginning  to  open.     But  think 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  57 

of  Hesperides  Vale  in  another  five  years.  And  think  what 
that  High  Line  ditch  means.  Just  imagine  it !  Water, 
all  you  can  use  and  running  to  waste ;  water  spilling  over 
in  this  sage-brush  desert.  Doesn't  it  spell  oasis  .^^  Think 
of  it!  Grass  and  flowers  and  shade  in  place  of  this  sun- 
baked  sand  and  alkali." 

"  It  sounds  like  a  fairy  tale,"  she  said.  "  I  can  hardly 
believe  it." 

"  I'll  show  you."  He  hurried  around  to  the  office  door 
and  came  back  directly  with  a  basket  of  fruit.  "  Here  are 
a  few  samples  from  my  trees.  Did  you  ever  see  pink  like 
that  in  a  bellflower.'*  Isn't  it  pretty  enough  for  a  girl's 
cheek?  And  say,"  he  held  up  an  exceedingly  large  apple, 
nearer  the  size  of  a  small  pumpkin,  "  how's  this  for  a 
Rome  Beauty?  An  agent  who  is  selling  acreage  for  a 
company  down  the  Yakima  offered  me  five  dollars  for  that 
apple  yesterday.  He  wanted  it  for  a  window  display  over 
at  his  Seattle  office.  But  look  at  these  Jonathans."  His 
sensitive  fingers  touched  the  fruit  lingeringly  with  a  sort 
of  caress,  and  the  glow  deepened  in  his  face.  "  They 
represent  the  main  crop.  And  talk  about  color !  Did  you 
ever  see  wine  and  scarlet  and  gold  blend  and  shade  nicer 
than  this?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Unless  it  was  in  a  Puget  Sound 
cloud  effect  at  sunset.  That  is  what  it  reminds  me  of ;  a 
handful  of  Puget  Sound  sunset." 

The  station  master  laughed  softly.  "  That's  about  it, 
sure.  Now  taste  one  and  tell  me  what  the  flavor  of  a 
Wenatchee  Jonathan  is  like.  No,  that's  not  quite  ripe; 
try  this." 

She  set  her  small  white  teeth  in  the  crimson  cheek  and 
tested  the  flavor  deliberately,  with  the  gravity  of  an  epi- 
cure, while  the  boy  watched  her,  his  whole  nervous  frame 
keyed  by  her  responsiveness  to  high  pitch.  "  It's  like 
nothing  else  in  the  world,"  she  said  finally.     "  No,  wait, 


58         THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

yes,  it  is.  It's  like  condensed  wine;  a  blend  of  the  best; 
golden  Angelica,  red  port,  amber  champagne,  with  just 
enough  of  old-fashioned  cider  to  remind  you  it  is  an 
apple." 

The  station  master  laughed  again.  "  Say,  but  you've 
got  it  all  in,  fine."  He  set  the  basket  at  her  feet  and 
stood  looking  down  at  her  an  uncertain  moment.  "  I 
would  like  awfully  well  to  send  you  a  box,"  he  added,  and 
the  flush  of  his  bellflower  was  reflected  in  his  cheek. 

She  gave  him  a  swift  upward  glance  and  turned  her 
face  to  the  desert.  "  Thank  you,  but  when  one  is  travel- 
ing, it  is  hard  to  give  a  certain  address."  In  the  pause 
that  followed,  she  glanced  again  and  smiled.  "  I  would 
like  one  or  two  of  these  samples,  though,  if  you  can  spare 
them,"  she  compromised ;  "  I  shall  be  thirsty  on  that  moun- 
tain road." 

"  I  can  spare  all  you'll  take." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  repeated  hastily.  "  And  you  may 
be  sure  I  shall  look  for  your  orchard  when  I  reach  Wen- 
atchee.     The  fruit  on  the  trees  must  be  beautiful." 

"  It  is.  It's  worth  the  drive  up  from  Wenatchee  just 
to  see  Hesperides  Vale,  and  that  special  Eden  of  mine  is 
the  core.  You  couldn't  miss  it ;  about  ten  miles  up  and 
right  on  the  river  road." 

"  I  shall  find  it,"  she  nodded  brightly.  "  I  am  going 
that  way  to  see  a  wild  tract  in  a  certain  pocket  of  the 
valley.  I  wonder  " —  she  started  and  turned  a  little  to 
give  him  her  direct  look  — "  if  by  any  possibility  it  could 
be  brought  under  your  Peshastin  ditch?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Hardly.  I  wouldn't  count  on 
it.  Most  of  those  pockets  back  in  the  benches  are  too 
high.  Some  of  them  are  cut  off^  by  ridges  from  one  to  six 
thousand  feet.  Maybe  your  agent  will  talk  of  pumping  ' 
water  from  the  canal,  but  don't  you  bite.  It  means  an  ex- 
pensive electric  plant  and  several  miles  of  private  flume. 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  59 

And  perhaps  he  will  show  you  how  easy  it's  going  to  be  to 
tap  the  new  High  Line  that's  building  down  the  Wen- 
atchee  and  on  to  the  plateau  across  the  Columbia  thirty 
miles.  But  it's  a  big  proposition  to  finance;  in  places 
they'll  have  to  bore  through  granite  cliffs ;  and  if  the  day 
ever  comes  when  it's  finished  far  enough  to  benefit  your 
tract,  I  doubt  the  water  would  reach  your  upper  levels. 
And  say,  what  is  the  use  of  letting  him  talk  you  into  buy- 
ing a  roof  garden  when,  for  one  or  two  hundred  dollars  an 
acre,  you  can  still  get  in  on  the  ground  floor?  " 

She  did  not  answer.  Her  eyes  were  turned  again  to 
the  desert,  and  a  sudden  weariness  clouded  her  face.  In 
that  moment  she  seemed  older,  and  the  strong  light  brought 
out  two  lines  delicately  traced  at  the  corners  of  her  beauti- 
ful mouth  that  had  not  been  apparent  before. 

*'  But,  say,"  the  young  man  went  on  eagerly,  "  let  me 
tell  you  a  little  more  about  the  Vale.  It's  sheltered  in 
there.  The  mountains  wall  it  in,  and  you  don't  get  the 
fierce  winds  off  the  Columbia  desert.  The  snow  never 
drifts ;  it  lies  flat  as  a  carpet  all  winter.  And  we  don't 
have  late  frosts ;  never  have  to  stay  up  all  night  watching 
smudge  pots  to  keep  the  trees  warm.  And  those  steep 
slopes  catch  the  early  spring  sun  and  cast  it  off  like  big 
reflectors ;  things  start  to  grow  before  winter  is  gone. 
And  I  don't  know  what  makes  it  so,  but  the  soil  on  those 
low  Wenatchee  benches  is  a  little  different  from  any  other. 
It  looks  like  the  Almighty  made  his  hot  beds  there,  all 
smooth  and  level,  and  just  forgot  to  turn  the  water  on. 
And  take  a  project  like  the  Peshastin,  run  by  a  strong 
company  with  plenty  of  capital;  the  man  along  the  canal 
only  has  to  pay  his  water  rate,  so  much  an  irrigated  acre ; 
nothing  towards  the  plant,  nothing  for  flume  construction 
and  repairs.  And,  say,  I  don't  want  to  bore  you,  I  don't 
want  to  influence  you  too  far,  but  I  hate  to  see  a  woman 
—  a  lady  —  throw  her  money  away  right  in  sight  of  a 


60        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

sure  proposition;  even  if  you  can't  go  into  improved  or- 
chards, any  Hesperides  investment  is  safe.  It  means  at 
least  double  the  price  to  you  within  two  years.  I've 
bonded  forty  acres  more  of  wild  land  joining  my  tract, 
and  I  shall  plant  thirty  of  it  in  the  fall.  The  last  ten 
will  be  cleared  and  reserved  for  speculation.  The  piece 
comes  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  Great  Northern's 
tracks.  There's  a  siding  there  now,  and  when  the  Vale 
comes  into  full  bearing,  they  are  bound  to  make  it  a  ship- 
ping station.  Then  I'm  going  to  plat  that  strip  into 
town  lots  and  put  it  on  the  market."  He  paused  while  her 
glance,  returning  from  the  desert,  met  his  in  a  veiled  side- 
look,  and  the  flush  of  the  bellflower  again  tinged  his  cheek. 
"  I  mean,"  he  added,  "  I'd  be  mighty  glad  to  let  you 
in." 

The  blue  sparkles  played  under  her  lashes.  "  Thank 
you,  it  sounds  like  riches,  but  — " 

She  stopped,  leaving  the  excuse  unsaid.  The  station 
master  had  turned  his  face  suddenly  towards  the  Colum- 
bia ;  he  was  not  listening  to  her.  Then,  presently,  the 
sound  that  had  caught  his  alert  ear  reached  her  own 
faintly.  Somewhere  out  in  the  solitudes  a  train  had 
whistled.  ''  The  westbound  freight !  "  she  exclaimed  softly. 
''  Isn't  it  the  westbound  freight  ?  " 

He  nodded.  "  She's  signalling  Beverley.  They'll  call 
me  in  a  minute."  And  he  started  around  to  the  office 
door. 

She  rose  and  followed  to  the  corner  to  look  for  Tisdale. 
Midway  the  road  doubled  a  knoll  and  was  lost,  to  reap- 
pear, a  paler  streak,  on  the  gray  slope  where  the  ranch 
house  stood ;  and  it  was  there,  at  the  turn,  she  first  noticed 
a  cloud  of  dust.  It  advanced  rapidly,  but  for  a  while  she 
was  not  able  to  determine  whether  it  enveloped  a  rider  or 
a  man  on  foot;  she  was  certain  there  was  no  led  horse. 
Then  a  gust  of  wind  parted  the  cloud  an  instant,  and  the 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  61 

sparkle  suffused  her  whole  face.  He  was  returning  as  she 
had  hoped,  afoot. 

She  stood  watching  the  moving  cloud;  the  man's  bulk 
began  to  detach  from  it  and  gathered  shape.  Between 
pauses,  the  click  of  the  telegraph  reached  her,  then  sud- 
denly the  shriek  of  the  whistle  cut  the  stillness.  The  train 
must  have  crossed  the  Columbia  and  was  winding  up 
through  the  dunes.  She  went  along  the  platform  and 
picked  up  her  hat,  which  she  had  left  on  the  suitcase  with 
her  coat.  While  she  pinned  it  on  and  tied  her  veil  over 
it,  the  freight  signalled  twice.  It  was  so  close  she  caught 
the  echo  of  the  thundering  trucks  from  some  rocky  cut. 
When  the  call  sounded  a  third  time,  it  brought  an  an- 
swer from  the  silk  special,  far  off  in  the  direction  of  Ellens- 
burg.  She  lifted  her  coat  and  turned  again  to  watch  Tis- 
dale.  He  had  quickened  his  pace,  but  a  shade  of  sus- 
pense subdued  the  light  in  her  face. 

Since  the  whistle  of  the  special,  the  telegraph  instru- 
ment had  remained  silent,  and  presently  she  heard  the  sta-" 
tion  master's  step  behind  her.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  it's  Nip 
and  Tuck,  sure.  But  say,  he  can  sprint  some.  Does  it 
easy,  too,  like  one  of  those  cross-country  fellows  out  of 
a  college  team.     I'd  back  him  against  the  freight." 

"  If  he  misses  it,"  and  the  suspense  crept  into  her  voice, 
"  I  must  go  without  him,  and  I  suppose  I  can  be  sure  of 
a  hotel  at  Ellensburg?  " 

"  You'll  find  fair  accommodations  at  Kittitas.  But  he 
isn't  going  to  miss  the  freight,  and  it  will  be  hours  saved 
to  you  if  Lighter  lets  you  have  the  colts." 

She  lifted  her  coat,  and  he  held  it  while  she  slipped  her 
arms  in  the  sleeves.  ''  I've  'most  forgotten  how  to  do 
this,"  he  said ;  "  it's  so  long  since  I've  seen  a  girl  —  or  a 
lady.  I'm  afraid  I've  bored  you  a  lot,  but  you  don't 
know  how  I've  enjoyed  it.  It's  been  an  epoch  seeing  you 
in  this  wilderness." 


62        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  It's  been  very  interesting  to  me,  I'm  sure,"  she  re- 
plied gravely.  "  I've  learned  so  much.  I  wonder  if, 
should  I  come  this  way  again,  I  would  find  all  this  desert 
blossoming?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  surprised ;  settlement's  bound  to  follow 
a  new  railroad.  But  say,  look  into  Hesperides  Vale  while 
you  are  at  Wenatchee,  and  if  my  proposition  seems  good 
to  you  at  one  hundred  dollars  an  acre,  and  that  is  what 
I'm  paying,  drop  me  a  line.  My  name  is  Bailey.  Hen- 
derson Bailey,  Post-Office,  Wenatchee,  after  the  end  of  the 
month." 

He  waited  with  expectation  in  his  frank  brown  eyes,  but 
the  girl  stood  obliviously  watching  Tisdale.  He  reached 
the  platform  and  stopped,  breathing  deep  and  full,  while 
he  shook  the  dust  from  his  hat.  "  I  am  sorry,  madam," 
he  said,  "  but  their  only  saddle-horse  pulled  his  rope-stake 
this  morning  and  went  off  with  the  wild  herd.  You  will 
have  to  take  this  freight  back  to  Kittitas." 

"  How  disappointing ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  And  you 
were  forced  to  tramp  back  directly  through  this  heat  and 
dust." 

"  This  is  the  lightest  soil  I  ever  stepped  on " —  he 
glanced  down  over  his  powdered  leggings  and  shoes ;  the 
humor  broke  gently  in  his  face — "and  there's  just  one 
kind  deeper, —  the  Alaska  tundra." 

With  this  he  hurried  by  her  to  the  office.  Presently  the 
freight  whistled  the  siding,  and  Bailey  picked  up  the  bag- 
gage and  went  down  to  make  arrangements  with  the  train- 
men. The  girl  followed,  and  when  Tisdale  came  back,  she 
stood  framed  in  the  doorway  of  the  waiting  caboose,  while 
a  brakeman  dusted  a  chair,  which  he  placed  adroitly  fac- 
ing outside,  so  that  she  might  fo^et  the  unmade  bunks 
and  greasy  stove.  "  It  isn't  much  on  accommodations," 
he  said  conciliatingly,  "  but  you  can  have  it  all  to  your- 
selves ;  as  far  as  you  go,  it's  your  private  car." 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  63 

The  other  train  thundered  into  the  station  and  past; 
the  freight  began  to  move,  and  Tisdale  swung  himself 
aboard.  Then  the  station  master,  remembering  the 
apples  at  the  last  moment,  ran  with  the  basket,  crowned 
still  by  the  Rome  Beauty  for  which  he  had  refused  five 
dollars,  and  dropped  it  as  a  parting  tribute  at  her  feet. 

"  Thank  you !  Thank  you  for  everything !  "  Her  soft 
voice  fluted  back  to  Bailey,  and  she  leaned  forward  a  little, 
raising  her  hand  with  a  parting  salute.     "  Good-by !  " 

Then,  as  she  settled  back  in  her  chair,  her  swift  side- 
glance  swept  Tisdale.  It  was  incredible  he  had  removed 
so  much  dust  in  that  brief  interval,  but  plainly,  some- 
where in  that  miserable  station,  he  had  found  water  and 
towels ;  he  had  not  seemed  more  fit  that  morning  in  the  ob- 
servation car.  The  hand  he  laid  on  the  wall  as  a  brace 
against  the  rocking  of  the  light  caboose  was  on  a  level 
with  her  eyes,  and  they  rested  there.  It  was  a  strong, 
well-made  hand,  the  hand  of  the  capable  draughtsman, 
sensitive  yet  controlled,  and  scrupulously  cared  for.  "  I 
hope  I  pass  muster,"  he  said,  and  the  amusement  played 
gently  in  his  face,  "  for  I  am  going  to  venture  to  intro- 
duce myself.  Possibly  you  have  heard  Judge  Feversham 
speak  of  me.     I  am  Hollis  Tisdale  —  Miss  Armitage." 

In  the  instant  he  hesitated  on  the  name,  she  gave  him 
another  swift  upward  glance,  and  he  caught  a  question  in 
her  eyes ;  then  the  sparkles  rose,  and  she  looked  off^  again 
to  the  point  where  the  railroad  track  was  lost  among  the 
dunes.  "  Of  course  I  have  heard  of  you,"  she  admitted. 
"  We  —  Mrs.  Feversham  —  recognized  you  this  morning 
in  Snoqualmie  Pass  and  would  have  spoken  to  thank  you 
for  your  service  had  you  not  hurried  aboard  your  train. 
She  has  known  you  by  sight  and  has  wished  to  meet  you 
personally  a  long  time.  But  I  —  I  —  as  you  must  know 
—  I—" 

She  had  turned  once  more  to  give  him  the  direct  look  of 


64        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

her  unveiled  eyes,  and  meeting  his  her  voice  failed.  The 
color  flamed  and  went  in  her  face ;  then,  her  glance  falling 
to  the  basket  at  her  feet,  she  bent  and  took  the  largest 
apple.  "Did  you  ever  see  such  a  marvel?"  she  asked. 
"  It  came  from  that  station  master's  orchard  in  the  Wenat- 
chee  valley.  He  called  it  a  Rome  Beauty.  Divide  it, 
please ;  let  us  see  if  the  flavor  is  all  it  promises." 

"  If  it  is  " —  and  Tisdale  took  the  apple  and  felt  in 
his  pocket  for  his  knife  — "  the  ground  that  grew  the  tree 
is  a  bonanza."  He  waited  another  moment,  watching  the 
changing  color  in  her  face,  then  turned  and  walked  to  the 
upper  end  of  the  caboose,  where  he  deliberately  selected  a 
stool  which  he  brought  forward  to  the  door.  Her  con- 
fusion puzzled  him.  Had  she  been  about  to  confess,  as  he 
had  at  first  conjectured,  that  Miss  Armitage  was  an  in- 
cognito used  to  satisfy  the  Press  reporter  and  so  avoid 
publicity?  It  was  clear  she  had  thought  better  of  the  im- 
pulse, and  he  told  himself,  as  he  took  the  seat  beside  her 
and  opened  his  knife,  he  was  to  have  no  more  of  her  confi- 
dence than  Jimmie  Daniels. 


CHAPTER  VI 

NIP    AND    TUCK 

BAILEY  was  right;  the  colts  were  beauties.  But  at 
the  time  Tisdale  arrived  at  the  Kittitas  stables, 
Lighter,  having  decided  to  drive  them  to  North  Yakima, 
was  putting  the  pair  to  a  smart  buggy.  They  were  not 
for  hire  at  double  or  treble  the  usual  day  rate. 

"  I  want  to  sell  this  team,"  the  trader  repeated  flatly. 
"  I  don't  want  to  winter  'em  again,  and  my  best  chance  to 
show  'em  is  now,  down  at  the  fair.  I  can  keep  'em  in  good 
shape,  making  it  in  two  stages  and  resting  'em  over  night 
on  the  road,  and  be  there  by  noon  to-morrow." 

One  of  the  horses  reared,  lifting  the  stable-boy  off  his 
feet,  and  Lighter  sprang  to  take  the  bit  in  his  powerful 
grasp.  "  Steady,  Tuck,  steady !  Whoa,  whoa,  back  now, 
back,  steady,  whoa !  "  The  animal  stood,  frothing  a  little, 
his  beautiful  coat  moist,  every  muscle  tense.  "  See  there, 
now !  Ain't  he  peaceable.?  Nothing  mean  under  his  whole 
hide;  just  wants  to  go.  The  other  one  will  nip  your  fin- 
gers once  in  a  while,  if  you  don't  watch  out,  but  he  don't 
mean  anything,  either;  it's  all  in  fun." 

He  gave  his  place  to  the  boy  again  and  stepped  back  to 
Tisdale's  side,  still  watching  his  team,  while  a  second 
stableman  hurried  to  fasten  the  traces.  "  The  fact  is," 
he  went  on,  dropping  his  voice  confidentially,  "  I've  got 
wind  of  a  customer.  He's  driving  through  from  the  Sound 
to  the  races  in  his  machine.  A  friend  of  mine  wired  me. 
Mebbe  you  know  him.  It's  one  of  those  Morgansteins  of 
Seattle;  the  young  feller.     He  saw  these  bays  last  year 


66        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

when  thej  took  the  blue  ribbon  and  said  he'd  keep  an  eye 
on  'em.  They  were  most  too  fly  then  for  crowded  streets 
and  spinning  around  the  boulevard  'mongst  the  automo- 
biles, but  they're  pretty  well  broke  now.  Steady,  Nip, 
whoa  there !  " 

"  But,"  said  Tisdale  quietly,  "  young  Morganstein  met 
with  an  accident  this  morning  in  Snoqualmie  Pass.  An 
axle  was  broken,  and  he  was  thrown  out  of  his  machine. 
His  leg  was  injured,  and  he  took  the  train  back  to  Seattle/ 
I  happened  to  be  on  the  eastbound  at  the  siding  where  it 
all  occurred." 

Lighter  gave  him  a  skeptical  glance  between  narrowed 
lids.  "  Then,  if  he  can't  come  himself,  I  guess  he'll  send 
his  man.  He  told  that  friend  of  mine  he  counted  on  hav- 
ing another  look  at  this  team." 

Tisdale's  brows  contracted.  "  See  here,  I  want  to  drive 
to  Wenatchee ;  what  is  the  best  you  can  do  for  me?  " 

"  Why,  let's  see.  My  best  livery  rig  is  on  the  Wenat- 
chee road  now.  One  of  them  High  Line  fellers  hired  the 
outfit  with  a  driver  to  take  him  through  to  the  valley.  If 
you'd  be'n  here  when  they  started,  likely  they'd  be'n  glad 
to  accommodate  you.  And  the  sorrels  is  out  with  a  pic- 
nic to  Nanum  canyon.  That  leaves  the  roans.  They 
come  in  half  an  hour  ago.  A  couple  of  traveling  sales- 
men had  'em  out  all  the  forenoon,  and  these  drummers 
drive  like  blue  blazes;  and  it's  a  mean  pull  through  to 
Wenatchee.  But  wait  till  to-morrow  and,  with  an  early 
start,  you  can  make  it  all  right  with  the  roans.  That's 
the  best  I  can  do,  unless  you  want  a  saddle-horse." 

Tisdale  walked  back  to  the  stalls  and,  convinced  at  a 
glance  the  jaded  roans  were  impossible  for  that  day,  at 
least,  stopped  to  look  over  the  saddle  animals.  He  saw 
that  there  were  two  promising  travelers,  but  it  would  be 
necessary  to  impress  an  indifferent  third  to  carry  the  bag- 
gage.    Besides,  judging  from  all  he  had  seen,  the  re- 


NIP  AND  TUCK  67 

sources  of  Kittitas  did  not  include  a  ready-made  lady's 
habit.  He  returned  and  stood  another  silent  moment 
watching  the  lithe,  impatient  bays.  Finally  his  eyes 
moved  to  the  entrance  and  down  the  road  to  the  railroad 
station  where  Miss  Armitage  was  waiting.  She  was  seated 
on  a  bench  near  the  door.  He  could  distinguish  her  gray 
figure  in  relief  against  the  reddish-brown  wall. 

Directly  he  swung  around.  "  What  is  your  price  ?  "  he 
asked. 

Lighter's  hand  dropped  from  the  edge  of  the  buggy  seat. 
He  stepped  back  to  the  heads  of  his  team.  "  You  get  in, 
Harry,"  he  said.  "  Drive  'em  five  or  six  blocks.  Keep 
your  eyes  open." 

Harry  gathered  the  reins  warily  and  sprang  in; 
Lighter  released  his  hold,  then  hurried  forward  to  the 
driveway  and  stood  with  Tisdale  watching  the  team. 
"  Ain't  they  a  sight?  "  he  said. 

And  they  were.  Their  coats  shone  like  satin  in  the 
sun;  they  stepped  airily,  spurning  the  dust  of  Kittitas, 
and  blew  the  ashen  powder  from  their  nostrils ;  then  with- 
out warning  the  splendid  span  was  away. 

Tisdale  repeated:     "  What  is  your  price?  " 

Lighter's  shrewd  eyes  swept  his  new  customer  over;  it 
was  as  though  he  made  an  estimate  of  how  much  Tisdale 
could  pay.  "  Five  hundred  dollars,"  he  said.  "  Five  hun- 
dred —  if  it's  spot  cash." 

"And  the  outfit?" 

"  Let  me  see.  Harness  is  practically  new ;  buggy  first- 
class.  I'll  make  it  an  even  seven  hundred  for  the  whole 
business;  outfit  and  team." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  As  a  rule,  a  man  drawing 
the  salary  of  the  Geological  Survey  does  not  spend  seven 
hundred  dollars  lightly.  He  bridles  his  impulses  to  own 
fine  driving-horses  until  at  least  he  has  tried  them.  And 
this  sum,  just  at  that  time,  meant  something  of  a  drain  on 


68        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Tisdale's  bank  account.  He  knew  if  he  bought  the 
Weatherbee  tract  and  reclaimed  it,  he  must  hedge  on  his 
personal  expenses  for  a  year  or  two ;  he  had  even  talked 
with  Banks  a  little  about  a  loan  to  open  the  project  and 
keep  it  moving  until  the  next  season's  clean-up,  when  the 
Aurora  should  make  good.  He  stirred,  with  a  quick  up- 
ward lift  of  his  head,  and  looked  once  more  in  the  direction 
of  the  station. 

The  girl  rose  and  began  to  walk  the  platform.  \ 

Tisdale  swung  back  and  met  the  trader's  calculating 
gaze.     "  Where  is  your  bank  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  business  was  quickly  transacted  and,  when  Lighter 
and  his  customer  stepped  out  of  the  bank,  Harry  was 
there,  driving  the  bays  slowly  up  and  down  the  street.  In 
the  moment  they  waited  for  him  to  draw  up,  the  trader 
looked  Tisdale  over  again.  "  Your  easiest  way  to  get  this 
team  over  to  the  Sound  is  to  drive  through  Snoqualmie 
Pass,  the  way  you  came." 

"  But,"  said  Tisdale,  knitting  his  brows,  "  I  told  you  I 
wanted  this  team  to  drive  to  the  Wenatchee  valley." 

"  You  can't  drive  on  through  the  Cascades  from  there 
and,  if  you  try  to  ship  these  colts  aboard  a  Great  North- 
ern train,  you'll  have  trouble." 

"  I  shall  probably  leave  them  to  winter  in  the  valley. 
Unless  " —  Tisdale  paused,  smiling  at  the  afterthought  — 
"  I  decide  to  sell  them  to  young  Morganstein  when  I  get 
back  to  Seattle." 

Lighter  laughed  dryly.  "  I  thought  so.  I  sized  you 
up  all  right  at  the  start.  I  says  to  myself :  '  He  don't 
look  like  a  feller  to  run  a  bluff,'  and  I  says :  *  Young  Mor- 
ganstein ain't  the  sort  to  pick  up  any  second-hand  outfit,' 
but  I  thought  all  along  you  was  his  man." 

"  I  see."  The  humor  played  softly  in  Tisdale's  face. 
"  I  see.     But  you  thought  wrong." 

Lighter's  lids  narrowed  again  skeptically.     "  Those  let- 


NIP  AND  TUCK  69 

ters  you  showed  to  identify  yourself  cinched  it.  Why,  one 
was  signed  by  his  brother-in-law,  Miles  Feversham,  and 
your  draft  was  on  the  Seattle  National  where  the  Morgan- 
steins  bank.  But  it's  all  right;  I  got  my  price."  He 
nudged  Tisdale  slyly  and,  laughing  again,  moved  to  the 
heads  of  the  team.  "  Now,  sir,  watch  your  chance ;  they're 
chain  lightning  the  minute  you  touch  the  seat." 

Tisdale  was  ready.  At  last  he  felt  the  tug  of  the  lines 
in  his  grasp,  the  hot  wind  stung  his  face,  and  he  was 
speeding  back  in  the  direction  of  the  station.  The  girl 
came  to  the  edge  of  the  platform  as  he  approached,  and 
while  the  solitary  man  from  the  freight  office  caught  the 
first  opportunity  to  store  the  baggage  under  the  seat,  and 
the  second  to  lift  in  the  basket  of  samples  from  Bailey's 
orchard,  she  tied  her  veil  more  snugly  under  her  chin  and 
stood  measuring  the  team  with  the  sparkles  breaking  in 
her  eyes.  Then  she  gathered  her  skirts  in  one  hand  and 
laid  the  other  lightly  on  the  seat. 

"  Don't  try  to  help  me,"  she  said  breathlessly.  "  Just 
hold  them."  And  the  next  instant  she  was  up  beside  him, 
and  her  laugh  fluted  in  exhilaration  as  they  whirled 
away. 

Kittitas  fell  far  behind.  They  were  racing  directly 
across  the  seven  miles  of  level  towards  a  pass  in  a  lofty 
range  that  marked  the  road  to  Wenatchee.  Far  to  the 
left  lines  of  poplars  showed  where  the  irrigating  canals 
below  Ellensburg  watered  the  plain,  and  on  the  right  the 
dunes  and  bluffs  of  the  unseen  Columbia  broke  the  horizon. 
But  the  girl  was  watching  Tisdale's  management  of  the 
horses.  "  What  beauties  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  And  Nip 
and  Tuck !  "  Her  lips  rippled  merriment.  "  How  well 
named.  Wait,  be  —  care  —  ful  —  they  are  going  to  take 
that  ho-le.  Oh,  would  you  mind  giving  those  reins  to 
me?" 

"  I  wish  I  could."     He  shook  his  head,  while  the  amuse- 


70        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ment  played  gently  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "  I  know 
all  about  a  team  of  huskies,  and  it  doesn't  make  much  dif- 
ference what  I  have  under  a  saddle,  but  these  kittens  in 
harness  are  rather  out  of  my  line." 

"  Then  trust  yourself  to  me ;  please  do.  I  used  to  drjve 
just  such  a  pair." 

"  Oh,  but  your  hands  couldn't  stand  this,  and  those 
gloves  would  be  ribbons  in  half  an  hour." 

"  They  are  heavier  than  they  look ;  besides,  there  are 
the  shops  at  Wenatchee !  "  As  if  this  settled  the  matter  she 
said :  "  But  we  must  change  places.  Now."  She  slipped 
into  his  seat  as  he  rose,  and  took  the  reins  dexterously, 
with  a  tightening  grip,  in  her  hands.  "  Whoa,  whoa, 
Nip ! "  Her  voice  deepened  a  little.  "  Steady,  Tuck, 
steady !     That's  right ;  be  a  man." 

There  was  another  silent  interval  while  he  watched  her 
handling  of  the  team,  then,  "  I  did  not  know  there  could  be 
a  pair  in  all  the  world  so  like  Pedro  and  Don  Jose,"  she 
said,  and  the  exhilaration  softened  in  her  face.  "  They 
were  my  ponies  given  me  the  birthday  I  was  seventeen.  A 
long  time  ago  — "  she  sighed  and  flashed  him  a  side-glance, 
shaking  her  head  — "  but  I  shall  never  forget.  We  lived 
in  San  Francisco,  and  my  father  and  I  tried  them  that 
morning  in  Golden  Gate  park.  The  roads  were  simply 
perfect,  and  the  sea  beach  at  low  tide  was  like  a  hardwood 
floor.  After  that  we  drove  for  the  week-end  to  Monterey, 
then  through  the  redwoods  to  Santa  Cruz  and  everywhere." 
She  paused  reminiscently.  "  Those  California  hotels  are 
fine.  They  pride  themselves  on  their  orchestras,  and 
wherever  we  went,  we  found  friends  to  enjoy  the  dancing 
evenings  after  table  d'hote.  That  was  in  the  winter,  but 
it  was  more  delightful  in  the  spring.  We  drove  far  south 
then,  through  Menlo  Park  and  Palo  Alto,  where  the  great 
meadows  were  vivid  with  alfalfa,  and  fields  on  fields  were 
yellow  with  poppies  or  blue  with  lupine;  on  and  on  into 


NIP  AND  TUCK  71 

the  peach  and  almond  country.  I  can  see  those  blossom- 
ing orchards  now ;  the  air  was  flooded  with  perfume." 

Her  glance  moved  from  the  horses  out  over  the  sage- 
covered  levels,  and  the  contrast  must  have  dropped  like  a 
curtain  on  her  picture,  for  the  light  in  her  face  died.  Tis- 
dale's  look  followed  the  road  up  from  the  plain  and  rested 
on  the  higher  country;  his  eyes  gathered  their  far-seeing 
gaze.  He  had  been  suddenly  reminded  of  Weatherbee.  It 
was  in  those  California  orchards  he  had  spent  his  early 
life.  He  had  known  that  scent  of  the  blossoming  almond ; 
those  fields  of  poppies  and  lupine  had  been  his  playground 
when  he  was  a  child.  It  was  at  the  university  at  Palo  Alto 
that  he  had  taken  his  engineering  course;  and  it  was  at 
one  of  those  gay  hotels,  on  a  holiday  and  through  some 
fellow  student,  he  had  met  the  woman  who  had  spoiled  his 
life. 

The  moment  passed.  One  of  the  horses  broke,  and  in- 
stantly the  driver  was  alert.  And  while  she  alternately 
admonished  and  upbraided,  with  a  firm  manipulation  of 
the  reins,  the  humor  began  to  play  again  in  Tisdale's  face. 
They  were  approaching  the  point  where  the  road  met  the 
highway  from  Ellensburg,  and  in  the  irrigated  sections 
that  began  to  divide  the  unreclaimed  land,  harvesters  were 
reaping  and  binding ;  from  a  farther  field  came  the  noise  of 
a  threshing  machine;  presently,  as  the  bays  turned  into 
the  thoroughfare,  the  way  was  blocked  by  a  great  flock  of 
sheep. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "  there  must  be  thousands  of  them ; 
how  can  the  ones  in  the  center  breathe?  Whoa,  Nip, 
whoa  now!  Do  you  think  you  are  one  of  those  lambs? 
And  there's  no  chance  to  go  around;  it  is  fenced  with 
barbed  wire  on  both  sides ;  we  simply  must  drive  through^ 
No,  let  me,  please.     Steady,  now.  Tuck,  steady,  whoa." 

They  had  passed  the  mounted  herders,  and  the  colts 
broke  their  way  playfully,  dancing,  curveting  with  bowing 


72        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

necks,  into  the  midst  of  the  flock.  Soon  the  figures  of  the 
advance  shepherds  loomed  through  the  dust.  They  were 
turning  the  sheep  into  a  harvested  field.  They  rolled  in 
over  the  yellow  stubble  like  a  foaming  sea.  Far  away,  out- 
lined like  a  sail  against  an  island  rick,  the  night  tent  of 
these  nomads  was  already  pitched. 

Tisdale  laughed  softly.  "  Well,  madam,  that  was  skil- 
ful piloting.  A  bidarka  couldn't  have  been  safer  riding  in 
a  skiddery  sea." 

"  A  bidarka  ?  "  she  questioned,  ruffling  her  brows. 

Tisdale  nodded.  "  One  of  those  small  skin  canoes  the 
Alaskan  natives  use.  And  it's  touchy  as  a  duck;  comes 
bobbing  up  here  and  there,  but  right-side  up  every  time. 
And  it's  frail  looking,  frail  as  an  eggshell,  yet  I  would 
stake  a  bidarka  against  a  lifeboat  in  a  surf.  Do  you 
know?  " — he  went  on  after  a  moment  — "  I  would  like  to 
see  you  in  one,  racing  out  with  the  whitecaps  up  there  in 
Bering  Sea ;  your  face  all  wet  with  spray,  and  your  hair 
tucked  away  in  the  hood  of  a  gray  fox  parka.  Nothing 
else  would  show ;  the  rest  of  you  would  be  stowed  below  in  a 
wonderful  little  water-tight  compartment."^ 

"  It  sounds  delightful,"  she  said,  and  the  sparkles  broke 
in  her  eyes. 

After  that  there  was  a  long  silence.  The  bays  fell  into 
an  even  trot.  The  mountains  loomed  near,  then  before 
them,  on  the  limits  of  the  plain,  a  mighty  herd  of  cattle 
closed  the  road.  The  girl  rose  a  little  in  her  place  and 
looked  over  that  moving  sea  of  backs.  "  We  must  drive 
through  again,"  she  said.  "  It's  going  to  be  stifling  but 
there's  no  possible  way  around.  No,"  she  protested,  when 
he  would  have  taken  the  reins,  "  I'm  able.  I  learned  once, 
years  ago,  on  a  great  ranch  in  southern  California.  I'd 
rather."  She  settled  in  her  seat  smiling  a  little.  "  It's 
in  the  blood." 

Tisdale  reached  and  took  the  whip.     They  had  passed 


NIP  AND  TUCK  73 

the  drivers  and  were  pushing  into  the  herd.  Sometimes  a 
red-eyed  brute  turned  with  lowered  horns  and  dripping 
mouth,  then  backed  slowly  out  of  the  way  of  the  team. 
Sometimes,  in  a  thicker  press,  an  animal  wheeled  close  to 
the  tires  and,  stemming  the  current,  sounded  a  protest. 
But  the  young  horses,  less  playful  now,  divided  the  great 
herd  and  came  at  last  safely  out  of  the  smother.  The 
road  began  to  lift,  as  they  rounded  the  first  rampart  of 
the  range,  and  Tisdale's  glance  fell  to  her  hands.  "  Those 
gloves  are  done  for,  as  I  expected,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll 
wager  your  palms  are  blistered.     Come,  own  they  hurt." 

She  nodded.  "  But  it  was  worth  it,  though  you  may 
drive  now,  if  you  wish.  It's  my  wrists ;  they  have  been 
so  long  out  of  practice.  You  don't  know  how  they 
a  —  che." 

"  So,"  he  said,  when  he  had  taken  the  reins,  "  so  you  are 
as  fond  of  horses  as  this." 

"  Horses  like  these,  yes.  I  haven't  felt  as  happy  and 
young  since  I  gave  up  Pedro  and  Don  Jose." 

Tisdale  turned  a  little  to  look  in  her  face.  She  had 
said  "  young  "  with  the  tone  of  one  whose  youth  is  past, 
yet  the  most  conservative  judge  could  not  place  her  age  a 
day  over  twenty-five.  And  she  was  so  buoyant,  so  vibrant. 
His  pulses  quickened.  It  was  as  though  currents  of  her 
vitality  were  being  continually  transmitted  through  his 
veins. 

As  they  ascended,  the  plain  unfolded  like  a  map  below ; 
harvest  fields,  pastures  of  feeding  cattle  or  sheep,  meadows 
of  alfalfa,  unreclaimed  reaches  of  sage-brush,  and,  far  off 
among  her  shade-trees,  the  roofs  of  Ellensburg  reflecting 
the  late  sun.  Above  the  opposite  range  that  hemmed  the 
valley  southward  some  thunder-heads  crowded  fast  towards 
a  loftier  snow-peak.  Far  away  across  the  divide,  white, 
symmetrical,  wrought  of  alabaster,  inlaid  with  opal,  lifted 
a  peerless  dome. 


74        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Mount  Rainier !  "  exclaimed  Tisdale. 

"  I  knew  it."  Her  voice  vibrated  softly.  "  Even  at 
this  distance  I  knew.  It  was  like  seeing  unexpectedly,  in 
an  unfamiliar  country,  the  head  of  a  noble  friend  lifting 
above  the  crowd." 

Tisdale's  glance  returned  to  her  face.  Surprise  and 
understanding  shone  softly  in  his  own.  She  turned,  and 
met  the  look  with  a  smile.  It  was  then,  for  the  first  time, 
he  discovered  unsounded  depths  through  the  subdued  lights 
of  her  eyes.  "  You  must  have  known  old  Rainier  inti- 
mately," he  said. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Not  nearer  than  Puget  Sound. 
But  I  have  a  marvelous  view  from  my  hotel  windows  in 
Seattle,  and  often  in  long  summer  twilights  from  the  deck 
of  Mr.  Morganstein's  yacht,  I've  watched  the  changing 
Alpine  glow  on  the  mountain.  I  always  draw  my  south 
curtains  first,  at  Vivian  Court,  to  see  whether  the  dome  is 
clear  or  promises  a  wet  day.  I've  learned  a  mountain, 
surely  as  a  person,  has  individuality ;  every  cloud  effect  is 
to  me  a  different  mood,  and  sometimes,  when  I've  been  most 
unhappy  or  hard-pressed,  the  sight  of  Rainier  rising  so 
serene,  so  pure,  so  high  above  the  fretting  clouds,  has 
given  me  new  courage.  Can  you  understand  that,  Mr. 
Tisdale.'^  How  a  mountain  can  become  an  influence,  an 
inspiration,  in  a  life?  " 

"  I  think  so,  yes."  Tisdale  paused,  then  added  quietly: 
"  But  I  would  like  to  be  the  first  to  show  you  old  Rainier 
at  close  range." 

At  this  she  moved  a  little ;  he  felt  the  invisible  barrier 
stiffen  between  them.  "  Mr.  Morganstein  promised  to 
motor  us  through  to  the  National  Park  Inn  when  the  new 
Government  road  was  finished,  but  we've  been  waiting  for 
the  heavy  summer  travel  to  be  over.  It  has  been  like  the 
road  to  Mecca  since  the  foot  of  the  mountain  has  been  ac- 
cessible." 


NIP  AND  TUCK      '  75 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  Tisdale  watched  the 
pulling  team.  Her  manner  of  reminding  him  of  his  posi- 
tion was  unmistakable,  but  it  was  her  frequent  reference 
to  young  Morganstein  that  began  to  nettle  him.  Why 
should  she  wish  specially  to  motor  to  Rainier  with  that 
black-browed,  querulous  nabob.''  Why  had  she  so  often 
sailed  on  his  yacht.?  And  why  should  she  ever  have  been 
unhappy  and  hard-pressed,  as  she  had  confessed.?  She 
who  was  so  clearly  created  for  happiness.  But  to  Tis- 
dale her  camaraderie  with  Nature  was  charming.  It  was 
so  very  rare.  A  few  of  the  women  he  had  known  hitherto 
had  been  capable  of  it,  but  they  had  lived  rugged  lives; 
the  wilderness  gave  them  little  else.  And  of  all  the  men 
whom  he  had  made  his  friends  through  an  eventful  career, 
there  was  only  Foster  who  sometimes  felt  the  magnitude  of 
high  places, —  and  there  had  been  David  Weatherbee.  At 
this  thought  of  Weatherbee  his  brows  clouded,  and  that 
last  letter,  the  one  that  had  reached  him  at  Nome  and  which 
he  still  carried  in  his  breast  pocket,  seemed  suddenly  to 
gather  a  vital  quality.  It  was  as  though  it  cried  out: 
"  I  can't  stand  these  everlasting  ice  peaks,  Hollis ;  they 
crowd  me  so." 

Miss  Armitage  sat  obliviously  looking  off  once  more 
across  the  valley.  The  thunder-heads,  denser  now  and 
driving  in  legions  along  the  opposite  heights,  stormed  over 
the  snow  peak  and  assailed  the  far,  shining  dome. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "  see  Rainier  now !  That  blackest 
cloud  is  lifting  over  the  summit.  Rain  is  streaming  from 
it  like  a  veil  of  gauze;  but  the  dome  still  shines  through 
like  a  transfigured  face !  " 

Tisdale's  glance  rested  a  moment  on  the  wonder.  His 
face  cleared.  "  If  we  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  Cas- 
cades," he  said,  "  that  weather-cap  would  mean  a  storm 
before  many  hours ;  but  here,  in  this  country  of  little  rain, 
I  presume  it  is  only  a  threat." 


76        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  bays  began  to  round  a  curve  and  presently  Rainier, 
the  lesser  heights,  all  the  valley  of  Kittitas,  closed  from 
sight.  They  had  reached  the  timber  belt;  poplars 
threaded  the 'parks  of  pine,  and  young  growths  of  fir,  like  ^ 
the  stiff  groves  of  a  toy  village,  gathered  hold  on  the  ^ 
sharp  mountain  slopes.  Sometimes  the  voice  of  a  creek, 
hurrying  down  the  canyon  to  join  the  Yakima,  broke  the 
stillness,  or  a  desert  wind  found  its  way  in  and  went  wail- 
ing up  the  water-course.  And  sometimes  in  a  rocky 
place,  the  hoof-beats  of  the  horses,  the  noise  of  the  wheels, 
struck  an  echo  from  spur  to  spur.  Then  Tisdale  com- 
menced to  whistle  cautiously,  in  fragments  at  first,  with 
his  glance  on  the  playing  ears  of  the  colts,  until  satisfied 
they  rather  liked  it,  he  settled  into  a  definite  tune,  but 
with  the  flutelike  intonations  of  one  who  loves  and  is  ac- 
customed to  make  his  own  melody. 

He  knew  that  this  woman  beside  him,  since  they  had 
left  the  civilization  of  the  valley  behind,  half  repented  her 
adventure.  He  felt  the  barrier  strengthen  to  a  wall,  over 
which,  uncertain,  a  little  afraid,  she  watched  him.  At 
last,  having  finished  the  tune,  he  turned  and  surprised  the 
covert  look  from  under  her  curling  black  lashes. 

"  I  hope,"  he  said,  and  the  amusement  broke  softly  in 
his  face,  "  all  this  appraisal  is  showing  a  little  to  my 
credit." 

The  color  flamed  pinkly  in  her  face.  She  looked  away. 
*'  I  was  wondering  if  you  blamed  me.  I've  been  so  uncon- 
servative  —  so  —  so even  daring.     Is  it  not  true?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Armitage,  I  understand  how  you  had  to  de- 
cide, in  a  moment,  to  take  that  eastbound  train  in  Sno- 
qualmie  Pass,  and  that  you  believed  it  would  be  possible 
to  motor  or  stage  across  to  Wenatchee  from  the  Mil- 
waukee road." 

"  Yes,  but,"  she  persisted,  "  you  think,  having  learned 
my  mistake,  I  should  have  stayed  on  the  freight  train  as 


NIP  AND  TUCK  77, 

far  as  EUensburg,  where  I  could  have  waited  for  the  next 
passenger  back  to  Seattle." 

"  If  you  had,  you  would  have  disappointed  me.  That 
would  have  completely  spoiled  my  estimate  of  you." 

"  Your  estima'te  of  me  ?  "  she  questioned. 

'*  Yes."  He  paused  and  his  glance  moved  slowly,  a  lit- 
tle absently,  up  thje  unfolding  gorge.  "  It's  a  fancy  of 
mine  to  compare  a  woman,  on  sight,  with  some  kind  of 
flower.  It  may  be  a  lily  or  a  rose  or  perhaps  it's  a  flaunt- 
ing tulip.  Once,  up  in  the  heart  of  the  Alaska  forest,  it 
was  just  a  sweet  wood  anemone."  He  paused  again,  look- 
ing off"  through  the  trees,  and  a  hint  of  tenderness  touched 
his  mouth.  "  For  instance,"  he  went  on,  and  his  voice 
quickened,  "  there  is  your  friend,  Mrs.  Feversham.  I 
never  have  met  her,  but  I've  seen  her  a  good  many  times, 
and  she  always  reminds  me  of  one  of  those  rich^  dark 
roses  florists  call  Black  Prince.  And  there's  her  sister, 
who  makes  me  think  of  a  fine,  creamy  hyacinth ;  the  sturdy 
sort,  able  to  stand  on  its  own  stem  without  a  prop.  And 
they  are  exotics,  both  of  them;, their  personality,  wher- 
ever they  are,  has  the  eff^ect  of  a  strong  perfume." 

He  paused  again,  so  long  that  this  time  his  listener  ven- 
tured to  prompt  him.     "  And  I  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  ?  "  He  turned,  and  the  color  flushed  through  his 
tan.  "  Why,  you  are  like  nothing  in  the  world  but  a 
certain  Alaska  violet  I  once  stumbled  on.  It  was  out  of 
season,  on  a  bleak  mountainside,  where,  at  the  close  of  a 
miserable  day,  I  was  forced  to  make  camp.  A  little  thing 
stimulates  a  man  sometimes,  and  the  sight  of  that  flower 
blooming  there  when  violet  time  was  gone,  lifting  its  head 
next  to  a  snow-field,  nodding  so  pluckily,  holding  its  own 
against  the  bitter  wind,  buoyed  me  through  a  desperate 
hour." 

She  turned  her  face  to  look  down  through  the  treetops 
at  the  complaining  stream.     Presently  she  said :     "  That 


78        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

is  better  than  an  estimate ;  it  is  a  tribute.  I  wish  I  might 
hope  to  live  up  to  it,  but  sooner  or  later,"  and  the  vibra- 
tion played  softly  in  her  voice,  "  I  am  going  to  disap- 
point you." 

Tisdale  laughed,  shaking  his  head.  "  My  first  impres- 
sions are  the  ones  that  count,"  he  said  simply.  "  But  do 
you  want  to  turn  back  now?  " 

"  N  —  o,  unless  you  —  do." 

Tisdale  laughed  again  mellowly.  "  Then  it's  all  right. 
We  are  going  to  see  this  trip  through.  But  I  wish  I  could 
show  you  that  Alaska  mountainside  in  midsummer.  Im- 
agine violets  on  violets,  thousands  of  them,  springing 
everywhere  in  the  vivid  new  grass.  You  can't  avoid 
crushing  some,  no  matter  how  carefully  you  pick  your 
steps.  There's  a  rocky  seat  half-way  up  on  a  level  spur, 
where  you  might  rest,  and  I  would  fill  your  lap  with  those 
violets,  big,  long-stemmed  ones,  till  the  blue  lights  danced 
in  your  eyes." 

They  were  doing  that  now,  and  her  laugh  fluted  softly 
through  the  wood.  For  that  moment  the  barrier  between 
them  lost  substance;  it  became  the  sheerest  tissue,  a  cur- 
tain of  gauze.  Then  the  aloofness  for  which  he  waited 
settled  on  hcfr.  She  looked  away,  her  glance  again  seek- 
ing the  stream.  "  I  can't  imagine  anything  more  delight- 
ful," shje  said. 

A  nough  and  steep  breadth  of  road  opened  before  them, 
and  for  a  while  the  bays  held  his  attention,  then  in  a  bet- 
ter stretch,  h,e  felt  her  swift  side-glance  again  reading  his 
face.  "  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  you  are  not  at  all  the 
kind*  of  man  I  was  led  to  expect." 

"  No  ?  "  He  turned  interestedly,  with  the  amusement 
shading  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "  What  did  you 
hear?  " 

"  Why,  I  heard  that  you  were  the  hardest  man  in  the 
world  to  know ;  the  most  elusive,  shyest." 


NIP  AND  TUCK  79 

Tisdale's  laugh  rang,  a  low  note  from  the  depths  of  his 
mellow  heart.     "  And  you  believed  that?  " 

She  nodded,  and  he  caught  the  blue  sparkles  under  her 
drooping  lids.  "  You  know  how  Mrs.  Feversham  has 
tried  her  best  to  know  you ;  how  she  sent  you  invitations 
repeatedly  to  dinner  or  for  an  evening  at  Juneau,  Valdez, 
Fairbanks,  and  you  invariably  made  some  excuse." 

"  Oh,  but  that's  easily  explained.  Summers,  when  she 
timed  her  visits  to  Alaska,  I  was  busy  getting  my  party 
into  the  field.     The  working  season  up  there  is  short." 

"  But  winters,  at  Seattle  and  in  Washington  even,  it 
has  been  the  same." 

"Winters,  why,  winters,  I  have  my  geological  reports 
to  get  in  shape  for  the  printer ;  interminable  proofs  to  go 
over;  and  there  are  so  many  necessary  people  to  meet  in 
connection  with  my  work.  Then,  too,  if  the  season  has 
been  spent  in  opening  country  of  special  interest,  I  like  to 
prepare  a  paper. for  the  geographical  society;  that  keeps 
me  in  touch  with  old  friends." 

"  Old  friends,"  she  repeated  after  a  moment.  "  Do  yoa 
know  it  was  one  of  them,  or  rather  one  of  your  closest 
friends,  who  encouraged  my  delusion  in  regard  to 
you?" 

"  No,  how  was  it?  "     • 

"  Why,  he  said  you  were  the  hardest  man  in  the  world 
to  turn,  a  man  of  iron  when  once  you  made  up  your  mind, 
but  that  Mrs.  Feversham  was  right;  you  were  shy.  He 
had  known  you  to  go  miles  around,  on  occasion,  to  avoid 
a  town,  just  to  escape  meeting  a  woman.  And  he  told 
us  —  of  course  I  can  repeat  it  since  it  is  so  ridiculously 
untrue  —  that  it  was  easier  to  bridle  a  trapped  moose 
than  to  lead  you  to  a  ballroom;  but  that  once  there,  no 
doubt  you  would  gentle  fine." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  seat,  laughing  softly,  though  it 
was  obviously  a  joke  at  her  own  expense  as  well  as  Tis- 


80        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

dale's.  *'  And  I  believed  it,"  she  added.  "  I  believed  it 
—  every  word." 

Tisdale  laughed  too,  a  deep  undemote.  "  That  sounds 
like  Billy  Foster.  I  wager  it  was  Foster.  Was  it  ?  "  he 
asked. 

She  nodded  aflSrmatively. 

"  Then  Foster  has  met  you."  Tisdale's  voice  rang  a 
little.     "  He  knows  you,  after  all." 

"  Yes,  he  could  hardly  help  knowing  me.  His  business 
interests  are  with  my  closest  friends,  the  Morgansteins ; 
they  think  a  great  deal  of  him.  And  he  happens  to  piay 
a  remarkably  good  hand  at  bridge ;  we  always  depend  on 
him  to  make  up  a  table  when  he  is  in  town." 

Tisdale's  eyes  rested  a  thoughtful  moment  on  the  road 
ahead.  Strange  Foster  never  had  mentioned  her.  But. 
that  showed  how  blind,  how  completely  infatuated  with 
the  Spanish  woman  the  boy  was.  His  face  set  austerely. 
Then  suddenly  he  started ;  his  grasp  tightened  on  the  reins 
so  that  the  colts  sprang  to  the  sharp  grade.  "  Do  you 
happen  to  know  that  enchantress,  too  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Whom  ?  "  questioned  Miss  Armitage. 

*'  I  mean  Mrs.  Weatherbee.  I  believe  she  counts  the 
Morgansteins  among  her  friends,  and  you  said  you  were 
staying  at  Vivian  Court,  where  her  apartments  are." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  —  her.  I  " —  the  color  flamed  and 
went  in  her  face;  her  glance  fell  once  more  to  the  steep 
slope,  searching  out  the  narrowing  stream  through  the 
trees.  "  I  — 've  known  Beatriz  Weatherbee  all  my  life. 
I  —  I  think  a  great  deal  of  her." 

"  Madam,  madam  1 "  Tisdale  protested,  "  don't  tell  me 
that.  You  have  known  her,  lived  near  her,  perhaps,  in 
California,  those  years  when  you  were  growing  up ;  shared 
the  intimacies  young  girls  enjoy.  I  understand  all  that, 
but  don't  say  you  care  anything  for  her  now." 

Miss  Armitage  lifted  her  face.     Her  eyes  did  not  sparkle 


NIP  AND  TUCK  81 

then;  they  flamed.  "Why  shouldn't  I,  Mr.  Tisdale? 
And  who  are  you  to  disparage  Beatriz  Weatherbee  ?  You 
never  have  known  her.  What  right  have  you  to  condemn 
her.?  " 

"  This  right,  Miss  Armitage ;  she  destroyed  David 
Weatherbee.  And  I  know  what  a  life  was  lost,  what  a 
man  was  sacrificed." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A    NIGHT    ON    THE    MOUNTAIN    ROAD 

THEY  drove  on  for  a  long  interval  in  silence.  The 
colts,  sobered  by  the  sharp  pull  to  the  divide,  kept  an 
even  pace  now  that  they  had  struck  the  down-grade,  and 
Tisdale's  gaze,  hard  still,  uncompromising,  remained  fixed 
absently  on  the  winding  road.  Once,  when  the  woman  be- 
side him  ventured  to  look  in  his  face,  she  drew  herself  a  lit- 
tle more  erect  and  aloof.  She  must  have  seen  the  futility 
of  her  effort  to  defend  her  friend,  and  the  fire  that  had 
flashed  in  her  eyes  had  as  quickly  died.  It  was  as  though 
she  felt  the  iron  out-cropping  in  this  man  and  shrank 
from  him  baffled,  almost  afraid.  Yet  she  held  her  head 
high,  and  the  delicate  lines,  etched  again  at  the  corners 
of  her  mouth,  gave  it  a  saving  touch  of  decision  or  forti- 
tude. 

But  suddenly  Hollis  drew  the  horses  in.  Miss  Ar- 
mitage  caught  a  great  breath.  The  way  was  blocked  by 
a  fallen  pine  tree,  which,  toppling  from  the  bluff  they  were 
skirting,  had  carried  down  a  strip  of  the  road  and  started 
an  incipient  slide.  "  We  can't  drive  around,"  he  said  at 
last,  and  the  humor  broke  the  grim  lines  of  his  mouth. 
"  We've  got  to  go  through." 

She  looked  hastily  back  along  the  curve,  then  ahead 
down  the  steep  mountainside.  "  We  never  could  turn  in 
this  pla  —  ace,  but  it  isn't  possible  to  drive  through. 
Fate  is  against  us." 

"  Why,  I  think  Fate  favored  us.  She  built  this  barri- 
cade, but  she  left  us  an  open  door.  I  must  unhitch, 
though,  to  get  these  kittens  through." 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         83 

As  he  spoke  he  put  the  reins  in  her  hands  and,  spring- 
ing out,  felt  under  the  seat  for  the  halters.  The  girl's 
glance  moved  swiftly  along  the  tilting  pine,  searching  for 
that  door.  The  top  of  the  tree,  with  its  debris  of 
branches,  rested  prone  on  the  slope  below  the  road;  but 
the  trunk  was  supported  by  a  shoulder  of  the  bluff  on 
which  it  had  stood.  This  left  a  low  and  narrow  portal 
under  the  clean  bole  between  the  first  thick  bough  and  the 
wall.     "  But  the  buggy !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  That's  the  trouble."  Tisdale  found  one  halter  as  he 
spoke  and  reached  for  the  other.  "  It  is  getting  this  trap 
over  that  will  take  time.  But  I  pledge  myself  to  see  you 
through  these  mountains  before  dark;  and  when  we  strike 
the  levels  of  the  Columbia,  these  colts  are  going  to  make 
their  record." 

"  You  mean  we  can't  hope  to  reach  Wenatchee  before 
dark.?"  Her  voice  shook  a  little.  "And  there  isn't  a 
house  in  sight  —  anywhere.  Mr.  Tisdale,  we  haven't  even 
seen  another  traveler  on  this  road." 

"  Well,  this  is  luck ! "  He  was  drawing  a  coil  of  new 
rope  from  under  the  seat.  "  This  is  luck !  Lighter  must 
have  meant  to  picket  his  horses.  Did  I  tell  you  he  was 
starting  to  drive  these  bays  through  to  the  fair  at  North 
Yakima?  And  here  is  a  hatchet  —  he  expected  to  cut 
fire-wood  —  and  this  looks  like  his  lunch-box.  Yes," — 
and  he  lifted  the  lid  to  glance  in  — "  here  are  biscuits, 
sliced  ham,  all  we  need.  Lighter  must  have  intended  to 
spend  a  night  on  the  road.  And  here  is  that  second  hitch- 
ing-strap.     Now,  we  are  all  right ;  the  outfit  is  complete." 

He  took  the  precaution  to  tie  one  of  the  horses  before 
he  commenced  to  unfasten  the  traces,  and  he  worked 
swiftly,  dexterously,  while  the  girl  watched  him,  directing 
him  sometimes  from  her  seat  in  the  buggy.  Presently  he 
lifted  the  remaining  strap,  but  before  he  could  snap  the 
hook  in  the  ring,  the  colt's  ears  flattened  back,  and  he 


84        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

gripped  Tisdale's  hand.  Instantly  Miss  Armitage 
snatched  the  whip  and  was  on  her  feet.  "  Whoa,  Nip," 
she  cried,  and  cut  the  vixen  lightly  between  the  ears. 
"  Whoa,  now,  whoa !  " 

The  young  horse  released  his  hold  and  broke  forward, 
with  HoUis  dragging  at  the  bit.  He  ducked  with  the  colt 
under  the  barrier  and,  keeping  his  feet  with  difficulty,  ran 
hugging  the  bluff.  Rocks,  slipping  beneath  the  bay's  in- 
cautious hoofs,  rattled  down  the  steep  slope.  Finally 
mastered  by  that  tugging  weight,  he  settled  to  an  unsta- 
ble pace  and  so  passed  the  break  in  the  road. 

Miss  Armitage  had  left  the  buggy.  She  followed  to  the 
opening  and  stood  watching  Tisdale  until,  unable  to  find 
a  safe  hitching-place,  he  turned  another  bend.  The  re- 
maining horse  pulled  at  his  halter  and  neighed  shrilly  for 
his  mate.  She  went  to  him.  After  a  moment  she  untied 
him  and  led  him  through  the  passage.  He  followed  eas- 
ily, crowding  her  sometimes,  yet  choosing  his  steps  with  the 
caution  of  a  superior  animal  in  a  hard  situation.  Mid- 
way over  the  break  in  the  road,  where  it  was  narrowest,  he 
halted  with  a  forefoot  on  a  perilous  table  of  granite,  feel- 
ing, testing  its  stability.  "  That's  right,  be  careful,"  she 
admonished,  allowing  the  strap  to  slacken  while  she,  her- 
self, balanced  her  weight  on  the  rocking  slab.  "  But  it  is 
safe  enough  —  you  see.     Now,  now.  Tuck,  come  on." 

But  as  she  started  on,  Tisdale  reappeared  at  the 
curve  and,  waving  her  hand  to  reassure  him,  she  took  an 
incautious  step.  The  slab,  relieved  suddenly  of  her 
weight,  tilted  back  and  at  the  same  instant  caught  on  its 
lowered  edge  the  weight  of  the  following  horse.  He 
backed  off,  jerking  the  halter  taut,  but  she  kept  her  hold, 
springing  again  to  the  surface  of  the  rock.  Loose  splin- 
ters of  granite  began  to  clatter  down  the  slope;  then,  in 
the  moment  she  paused  to  gather  her  equilibrium,  she  felt 
Tisdale's  arm  reaching  around  to  take  the  strap.     "  Creep 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         85 

by  me,"  he  said  quietly.  "  No,  between  me  and  the  bluff, 
sidewise;  there's  room."  She  gained  safe  ground  and 
stood  waiting  while  he  brought  the  bay  across.  A  last 
rain  of  rock  struck  an  answering  echo  through  the  gorge. 

"  What  made  you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  knew  I  would 
hurry  back.  What  made  you?  handicapped,  too,  by  those 
skirts  and  abominable  heels." 

"  I  saw  you  were  hurt  —  the  vixen  meant  to  hurt  — 
and  I  knew  I  could  manage  Tuck.  I  —  I  thought  you 
might  need  me." 

Her  breath  was  coming  hard  and  quick ;  her  eyes  were 
big  and  shadowy  and,  looking  into  their  depths,  the  light 
began  to  play  softly  in  his  own.  "  You  thought  right," 
he  said.     "  I  am  going  to." 

He  turned  to  lead  the  horse  around  to  the  cleft  where 
he  had  left  his  mate.  Miss  Armitage  followed.  She  re- 
garded his  broad  back,  pursing  her  lips  a  little  and  ruf- 
fling her  brows.  *'  It  is  only  a  bruise,"  he  said  presently 
over  his  shoulder,  "  and  it  served  me  right.  Lighter 
warned  me  of  that  trick." 

Nevertheless  the  handkerchief  with  which  he  had 
wrapped  the  bruise  was  showing  a  red  stain,  and  past  the 
break  in  the  road  he  changed  the  halter  to  his  left  hand. 
The  hit  chin  g-place  he  had  chosen  was  in  a  cleft  formed  by 
a  divided  spur  of  the  mountain.  It  was  roofed  by  the 
boughs  of  two  pines,  and  the  boles  of  the  trees  offered  se- 
cure hold.  She  seated  herself  on  a  boulder,  set  benchwise 
against  the  rocky  wall,  and  watched  him  critically  while 
he  tied  the  second  horse. 

"  How  pleasant,"  she  said  intrepidly ;  "  it  is  like  com- 
ing unexpectedly  into  a  room  ready  furnished  in  brown 
and  green." 

Tisdale  turned.  "  I  could  make  you  comfortable  in 
this  pocket,  if  it  came  to  that,"  he  said.  "  It's  sheltered 
and  level  as  a  floor,  and  I  could  make  you  a  bed,  springy 


86        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  fragrant,  of  boughs;  the  camp-fire  would  close  the 
door.  And  you  needn't  go  hungry  with  Lighter's  lunch 
and  your  apples ;  or  thirsty  with  my  drinking-cup  to  fill 
down  there  at  the  stream." 

Even  before  he  finished  speaking  her  brows  arched  in 
protest,  and  he  felt  the  invisible  barrier  stiffen  hard  as  a 
wall.  "  We  really  must  hurry,  Mr.  Tisdale,"  she  said, 
rising.  *'  Though  it  may  be  impossible  to  reach  Wenat- 
chee  to-night,  we  must  find  some  sort  of  house.  And 
where  there  is  a  house,  there  must  be  housekeeping  and  " 
—  her  voice  wavered — "  a  woman." 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered.  "  And  we  have  at  least  two 
hours  of  daylight  left.  Don't  worry ;  I  am  going  now  to 
hurry  that  carriage  around." 

He  had  said  "  of  course,"  but  while  he  went  back  to  the 
buggy,  his  mind  reviewed  the  sordid  shelters  he  had  found 
in  just  such  solitudes,  where  a  woman's  housekeeping  was 
the  exception.  Men  in  communities  employed  camp  cooks, 
but  most  prospectors,  ranchers,  and  cattlemen  depended 
on  themselves.  There  had  been  times  when  he  himself 
had  been  forced  to  make  bread.  He  had  learned  that  first 
winter  he  had  spent  in  Alaska  with  Weatherbee.  At  the 
thought  of  that  experimental  mixture,  he  smiled  grimly. 
Then,  suddenly,  he  imagined  this  gently  nurtured  woman 
confronted  by  a  night  in  such  a  shack  as  they  had  occu- 
pied. He  saw  her  waiting  expectantly  for  that  impossi- 
ble chaperon;  and,  grasping  the  situation,  struggling 
pluckily  to  cover  her  amazement  and  dismay ;  he  saw  him- 
self and  Weatherbee  nerving  each  other  to  offer  her  that 
miserable  fare.  He  hoped  they  would  find  a  housekeeper 
at  the  first  house  on  that  mountain  road,  but  that  lunch 
of  Lighter's  gave  him  a  sense  of  security,  like  a  reserve 
fund,  inadequate,  yet  something  against  imminent  panic. 

Miss  Armitage  did  not  return  to  her  seat  when  he  was 
gone.     She  fell  to  pacing  the  level ;  to  the  upper  spur  and 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         87 

back;  to  the  lower  wall  and  return;  then,  finally,  it  was 
a  few  yards  further  to  the  bend,  to  discover  what  progress 
Tisdale  had  made.  The  buggy  was  not  yet  in  sight,  but 
the  new  rope  stretched  diagonally  from  beyond  the  breach 
in  the  road  to  a  standing  tree  on  the  bluff  above  her,  and 
he  was  at  work  with  the  hatchet,  cutting  away  an  upright 
bough  on  the  fallen  pine.  Other  broken  limbs,  gathered 
from  the  debris,  were  piled  along  the  slide  to  build  up  the 
edge.  When  his  branch  dropped,  he  sprang  down  and 
dragged  it  lengthwise  to  reinforce  the  rest.  Presently  he 
was  on  the  log  again,  reaching  now  for  the  buggy  tongue. 
He  set  his  knee  as  a  brace  on  the  stump  of  the  limb,  his 
muscular  body  bent,  lifted,  strained.  Then  the  front 
wheels  rolled  up  across  the  bole ;  he  slipped  to  the  ground 
and  grasped  the  outer  one,  steadying  it  down.  After  a 
moment,  when  he  had  taken  in  the  slack  of  the  line,  the  re- 
maining tires  slowly  followed,  and  he  began  to  ease  the  ve- 
hicle along  the  patched  roadway.  The  rain  of  rock  was 
renewed ;  fragments  of  granite  shifted  under  the  bulkhead 
of  boughs;  the  buggy  heeled  lower,  lower;  then,  at  the 
final  angle,  began  to  right  while  the  rope  strung  taut. 
The  narrowest  point  was  passed,  and  Tisdale  stopped  a 
breathing  space. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  to  see  the  humor  of  the 
situation  in  that  moment  while  he  stood  wiping  the  per- 
spiration from  his  face.  Jove,  how  Foster  would  enjoy 
seeing  him  labor  like  this  for  a  girl.  He  imagined  the  boy 
sitting  up  there  at  some  coign  of  vantage  on  the  bluff, 
admonishing,  advising  him  dryly,  while  he  laughed  in  his 
sleeve.  It  was  undeniably  funny.  Alone,  with  one  of 
Lighter's  saddle-horses  under  him,  his  baggage  secured  be- 
hind the  saddle,  he  might  have  been  threading  the  dunes 
of  the  Columbia  now.  This  incipient  slide  need  not  have 
caused  him  ten  minutes'  delay,  and  eight,  nine  o'clock  at 
the  latest,  "would  have  found  him  putting  up  for  the  night 


88        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

at  the  hotel  in  Wenatchee.  But  here  he  was  hardly  over 
the  divide;  it  was  almost  sunset,  but  he  was  dragging  a 
buggy  by  hand  around  a  mountain  top.  He  hoped  Foster 
never  would  find  out  what  he  had  paid  for  these  bays  — 
the  team  of  huskies  that  had  carried  him  the  long  trek 
from  Nome  to  the  Aurora  mine  and  on  through  Rainy  Pass 
had  cost  less.  Still,  under  the  circumstances,  would  not 
Foster  himself  have  done  the  same.?  She  was  no  ordinary 
woman;  she  was  more  than  pretty,  more  than  attractive; 
there  was  no  woman  like  her  in  all  the  world.  To  travel 
this  little  j  ourney  with  her,  listen  to  her,  watch  her  charms 
unfold,  was  worth  the  price.  And  if  it  had  fallen  to  Fos- 
ter, if  he  were  here  now  to  feel  the  spell  of  her,  that  Span- 
ish woman  would  lose  her  hold.  Then  he  remembered  that 
Foster  knew  her;  she  had  admitted  that.  It  was  incon- 
ceivable, but  he  had  known  her  at  the  time  he  confessed 
his  infatuation  for  Weatherbee's  wife.  The  amusement 
went  out  of  Tisdale's  face.  He  bent,  frowning,  to  free  the 
buggy  of  the  rope. 

It  was  then  Miss  Armitage,  exhilarated  at  his  success, 
hurried  forward  from  the  bend.  "  Oh,"  she  cried  radi- 
antly, "  how  resourceful,  how  strong  you  are.  It  looked 
simply  impossible ;  I  couldn't  guess  what  you  meant  to  do, 
and  now  we  have  only  to  hitch  the  team  and  drive  on  to 
Wenatchee.  But,"  she  added  gravely  and  shook  her  head, 
"  it  was  defying  Fate." 

He  turned,  regarding  her  from  under  still  cloudy  brows, 
though  the  genial  lines  began  to  deepen  anew.  "  I  told 
you  Fate  was  on  our  side.  She  threw  those  boughs  there 
in  easy  reach.  She  might  as  well  have  said :  '  There's 
some  lumber  I  cut  for  you ;  now  mend  your  road.'  " 

"  Perhaps,  well,  perhaps,"  the  girl  laughed  softly. 
"  But  if  Fate  had  said  that  to  any  other  man,  at  least  to 
any  man  I  know,  he  would  not  have  heard." 

But  the  Columbia  was  still  far  off  when  darkness  closed. 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         89 

and  with  sunset  the  thunder-heads  they  had  watched  across 
the  Kittitas  Valley  gathered  behind  them.  It  was  as 
though  armies  encamped  on  the  heights  they  had  left, 
waiting  for  night  to  pass.  Then  searchlights  began  to 
play  on  the  lower  country ;  there  was  skirmishing  along  the 
skyline ;  blades  flashed. 

At  last,  between  the  lightning  flashes,  the  blackness  was 
so  dense  it  was  hardly  possible  for  Tisdale  to  see  the  road, 
and  he  could  not  trust  the  nervous  team  to  keep  the  track ; 
it  was  necessary  to  stop,  at  least  to  wait  until  the  moon 
should  rise.  But  while  he  was  preparing  to  tell  her  so, 
the  silence  was  broken  by  the  barking  of  a  dog.  Instantly 
it  was  swelled  by  a  deeper  baying,  and  the  echo  rang  a 
continuous  clamor  through  the  gorge.  Then  a  faint  illu- 
mination brought  out  in  silhouette  a  final  bluff  ahead; 
rounding  it,  they  saw  a  low-roofed  habitation,  and  in  the 
open  door  a  woman  with  a  lamp. 

One  of  the  dogs  stood  bristling  and  growling  beside  her ; 
the  other,  barking  furiously,  sprang  from  the  porch  so 
that  for  a  moment  Tisdale  was  busy  with  the  plunging 
team.  Then  the  woman  spoke,  and  the  setter,  whimpering, 
snapping  furtively,  crept  back  to  her  feet. 

"  We  have  been  delayed  by  an  accident,"  Tisdale  ex- 
plained briefly,  "  and  I  want  you  to  take  this  lady  in  for 
the  night.  Make  her  comfortable  as  possible,  and  I  will 
see  it  is  worth  your  while." 

"  This  ain't  much  of  a  road-house."  The  woman  held 
the  lamp  higher  to  scrutinize  the  lady's  face.  "  We  only 
got  one  room,  an'  the  best  I  can  do  is  to  double  up 
with  the  kids  an'  give  you  my  bed." 

"  That  will  do  very  well,"  answered  Tisdale  quickly. 
"  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  Of  course  there's  a  stable 
somewhere  out  here  in  the  dark,  and  a  bale  or  two  of  hay." 

"  No,  we  got  a  shed  up,  but  we're  short  on  feed.  We're 
short  on  'bout  everything:  flour,  potatoes,  bacon,  beans. 


90        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

We've  just  took  up  this  here  claim,  an'  things  ain't 
growed.  But  my  man's  gone  down  to  Wenatchee  to  fetch 
a  load."  Then,  seeing  this  fact  was  hardly  one  to  solace 
her  transient  guests,  she  laughed  shortly  and  went  into 
the  cabin  to  set  the  lamp  on  a  table  and  bring  a  lantern 
that  hung  on  the  farther  wall. 

Tisdale  turned  to  help  Miss  Armitage  down.  "  We 
may  be  able  to  find  better  accommodations  towards  the 
Columbia,  when  the  moon  rises,"  he  said,  "  but  I  can't  be 
as  sure  of  another  —  chaperon."  Then,  looking  into  her 
face,  he  added  in  his  minor  key :  "  I  am  sorry,  but  you 
will  make  the  best  of  things,  I  know.  And  the  night  will 
pass.     Come." 

She  slipped  down  beside  him  and  stood  holding  her  skirts 
out  of  the  powdery  soil,  while  her  wide  eyes  searched  that 
interior  through  the  open  door.  Tisdale  lifted  the  bag- 
gage from  the  buggy  to  the  porch,  then  the  woman  re- 
turned with  the  lantern  and,  followed  by  the  dogs,  went  to 
show  him  where  he  might  stable  the  horses.  After  a  mo- 
ment Miss  Armitage  ventured  up  the  low  steps  to  the 
threshold.  It  was  a  portable  cabin  such  as  she  had  no- 
ticed from  the  train  window  at  intervals  where  construc- 
tion was  incomplete  along  the  new  railroad.  It  was  bat- 
tered and  weak,  showing  old  earmarks  of  transportation, 
but  it  was  furnished  with  a  rusty  cook-stove,  some  bench 
chairs,  and  two  beds,  which  stood  in  the  farther  corners 
and  nearly  filled  that  half  of  the  room.  A  few  heavy 
dishes,  the  part  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  several  slices  of  in- 
differently fried  bacon  were  on  the  table,  between  the 
lamp  and  a  bucket  containing  a  little  water.  Presently, 
still  holding  her  skirts,  she  crossed  the  grimy  floor  and 
stood  inspecting  with  a  mingled  fascination  and  dread 
those  ancient  beds.  Both  were  destitute  of  linen,  but  one 
was  supplied  with  a  tumbled  heap  of  coarse,  brown  blan- 
kets.    In  the  other,  beneath  a  frayed  comforter,  two  small 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         91 

boys  were  sleeping.  Their  sun-baked  faces  were  over- 
hung with  thatches  of  streaked  blond  hair,  and  one  rest- 
less arm,  throwing  off  the  sodden  cover,  partly  exposed 
the  child's  day  attire,  an  unclean  denim  blouse  tucked  into 
overalls.  She  turned  in  sudden  panic  and  hurried  back  to 
the  porch. 

In  a  little  while  she  noticed  her  suitcase,  opened  it,  and 
found  her  cologne;  with  this  she  drenched  a  fresh  hand- 
kerchief and  began  to  bathe  her  face  and  hands.  Then 
she  drew  one  of  the  bench  chairs  through  the  doorway  and, 
seating  herself  with  her  back  to  the  room,  kept  on  dab- 
bing her  lips  and  her  cheeks  with  the  cool,  delicately  pun- 
gent perfume,  and  so  gathered  up  the  remnants  of  her 
scattered  fortitude.  Finally,  when  the  lantern  glimmered 
again,  and  she  was  able  to  distinguish  the  two  returning 
figures,  she  had  laid  aside  her  hat  and  coat,  and  she  was 
ready  to  smile,  if  not  radiantly  at  least  encouragingly,  at 
Tisdale  as  he  came  up  the  steps. 

The  woman  went  in  to  shake  out  and  spread  the  blan- 
kets with  a  pretence  at  making  the  bed,  and  he  followed 
to  the  threshold,  where  he  took  a  swift  and  closer  inven- 
tory of  the  room.  Its  resources  were  even  more  meager 
than  he  had  supposed.  He  swung  around  and  looked  up 
through  the  darkness  towards  that  sheltered  cleft  they 
had  left  near  the  Pass.  He  did  not  say  anything,  but  the 
girl  watching  him  answered  his  thought.  "  I  wish  it  had 
been  possible.  It  would  have  been  delightful  —  the 
ground  was  like  a  carpet,  clean  and  soft  and  fragrant  — 
under  those  pines." 

"  I  wish  we  had  even  had  the  forethought  to  bring  down 
an  armful  of  those  boughs.  But,  after  all,  it  might  have 
been  worse.  At  least  you  need  not  go  hungry,  with  that 
lunch  of  Lighter's  and  your  apples,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
sandwiches  I  asked  the  steward  to  make  before  I  left  the 
train.     And   to-morrow,   when   you   are   safe  with  your 


92        THiE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

friends  at  Wenatchee,  you  are  going  to  forget  this  miser- 
able experience  like  an  unpleasant  dream." 

"  I  am  not  ungrateful,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  enjoyed 
every  moment  of  that  drive.  And  besides  the  apples,  I 
have  tea.  I  always  tuck  a  little  in  my  suitcase  when  we 
are  touring  with  Mrs.  Feversham,  because  she  uses  a 
different  blend." 

She  bent  as  she  spoke,  to  find  the  tea,  which  she  pro- 
duced together  with  a  small  kettle  and  alcohol  burner. 
Her  evident  desire  to  contribute  her  share,  the  fine  show 
of  courage  that  accepted  and  made  the  best  of  the  inevi- 
table, went  straight  to  Tisdale's  heart.  "  Tea,"  he  re- 
peated mellowly,  "  tea  and  all  the  outfit.  Well,  that  was 
mighty  thoughtful  of  you.  I  won't  even  have  to  make  a 
fire.  But  wait  a  minute ;  I  am  going  to  lift  that  table  out 
here  where  it  is  cooler." 

With  two  seats,  there  was  barely  room  for  it  on  the 
porch.  Then,  while  he  filled  the  kettle  and  lighted  the 
burner,  she  spread  the  cloth,  a  fine  damask  towel  supplied 
also  from  her  baggage.  On  the  whole  it  was  a  rather 
gay  little  supper  and,  considering  the  limitations  of  the 
menu,  it  bridged  a  long  interval.  Tisdale,  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  drink  tea  black  and  bitter  on  a  hard  trail, 
but  habitually  refused  it  socially,  tasted  his  cup  with  de- 
liberation. "  Miss  Armitage,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  can't 
delude  me.  Whatever  this  beverage  may  be,  I  am  sure  it 
is  no  ordinary  tea." 

She  was  pouring  a  second  cup  when  his  glance  fell  from 
her  face  to  her  hands.  They  were  delicately  made,  artis- 
tic, with  wilful  little  thumbs,  yet  they  impressed  him  with 
a  certain  resourcefulness,  a  strength  in  reserve.  Sud- 
denly the  light  from  the  lantern  which  he  had  hung  on  a 
nail  in  the  wall  above  the  table,  struck  an  exceedingly 
large  ruby  she  wore  on  her  left  hand.  It  glowed  blood- 
red,  scintillated,  flamed.     He  saw  the  stone  was  mounted 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         93 

with  diamonds  in  a  unique  setting  of  some  foreign  work- 
manship, and  he  told  himself  it  was  probably  an  heirloom ; 
it  was  too  massive,  too  ornate  for  a  betrothal  ring;  still 
he  moved  uneasily  and  set  the  cup  down  untasted.  His 
eyes  returned  to  her  face,  questioning,  doubting.  He 
was  like  a  musician  surprised  to  detect  in  a  beautiful  sym- 
phony the  first  false  note. 

After  that  the  conversation  lagged.  It  was  not  cool 
on  the  porch.  A  broadside  of  lightning  sweeping  the 
cabin  showed  it  stood  in  a  narrow  valley  walled  by  pre- 
cipitous, barren  slopes  and  widening  gulfwise  towards  the 
Columbia  desert.  The  pent  air  seemed  surcharged.  It 
was  as  though  that  table  was  set  in  a  space  between  run- 
ning dynamos,  and  when  a  stronger  flash  came.  Miss  Ar- 
mitage  instinctively  grasped  her  chair,  holding  herself 
from  contact  with  an  unseen  and  terrible  force.  Once, 
during  an  interlude,  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  strange, 
faint  cry. 

"  Did  you  hear.?  "  she  asked  breathlessly.  "  What  was 
it.?" 

Tisdale  smiled  into  her  troubled  eyes.  "  Why,  just  a 
cougar;  lonesome,  I  guess,  and  calling  his  mate.  But  it's 
all  right.  Sounds  carry  in  these  mountain  gorges,  and  his 
cry  was  picked  up  by  some  cross  wind  miles  from  here. 
Look  at  those  dogs !  They  wouldn't  stay  curled  up  there 
on  the  ground  asleep,  too  indifferent  to  prick  up  an  ear, 
if  a  cougar,  or  even  a  coyote,  were  near." 

Still  she  was  not  wholly  reassured.  She  leaned  for- 
ward, listening,  trying  to  fathom  the  darkness  with  a  lurk- 
ing terror  in  her  eyes.  At  last,  when  Tisdale  rose  to  say 
good  night,  she,  too,  left  her  chair.  She  laid  her  hand 
on  the  edge  of  the  table  as  though  that  might  steady  her 
voice.  *"  Are  you  going  to  the  stable  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Did 
you  find  a  possible  bed.?  " 

Hollis  laughed.     "  You  needn't  trouble  about  me.     I 


94        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

am  the  sort  of  fellow  to  find  the  soft  side  of  a  plank. 
Yes,  it's  true.  There  have  been  times  when  I've  slept  lux- 
uriously on  a  board,  with  just  my  coat  rolled  up  for  a 
pillow." 

There  was  a  brief  pause  while  her  imagination  grasped 
the  thought ;  then :  "  You  must  have  been  very  tired," 
she  said. 

"  I  was,"  he  answered  dryly  and  reached  to  take  the  lan- 
tern from  the  wall.  At  the  foot  of  the  steps  he  halted 
and  put  the  light  down  to  pick  up  his  bag,  which  he 
opened.  "  Here's  a  bunch  of  my  handkerchiefs,"  he  said. 
"  They  are  bigger  than  yours.  They  should  make  you  at 
least  a  pillow-case.     Good  night." 

The  setter  rose  to  follow  inquiringly  at  his  heels;  the 
lantern  swung  gently  to  his  tread  and,  as  his  shape  dis- 
appeared in  the  gloom,  his  whistle,  sweet,  soft,  almost 
tender,  fluted  back  to  her.  It  was  the  "  Good  night " 
from  the  opbra  of  Martha.  And  Miss  Armitage  smiled  in 
the  face  of  Fear  and  turned  resolutely  to  go  in. 

But  the  next  moment  she  was  back  again  over  the  thresh- 
old. "  Mr.  Tisdale !  "  she  called,  and  the  currents  held  so 
long  in  check  surged  in  her  voice.     "  Mr.  Tisdale !  " 

Instantly  the  lantern  swung  an  arc.  He  came  quickly 
back  to  the  steps.  "  Well,"  he  said,  breaking  the  pause, 
"  what  is  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  I  know  I  must  seem  foolish  —  but  —  please  don't  ga 
—  yet."  Her  position  on  the  edge  of  the  porch  brought 
her  face  almost  on  a  level  with  his.  Her  eyes  in  the  semi- 
darkness  were  luminously  big;  her  face,  her  whole  body, 
quivered.  She  leaned  a  little  towards  him,  and  her  near- 
ness, the  low,  vibrant  intensity  of  her  voice,  set  his  pulses 
singing. 

"  I  really  can't  stay  in  that  room,"  she  explained. 
"Those  beds  all  but  touch,  and  she,  the  mother,  has 
crowded  in,  dressed  as  she  is,  to  sleep  with  the  children. 


ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  ROAD         95 

There  isn't  any  air  to  breathe.  I  —  I  really  can't  make 
myself  lie  down  —  there.  I  had  rather  spend  the  night 
here  on  the  piazza.     Only  —  please  wait  —  until  — " 

Tisdale  laughed  his  short,  mellow  note.  "  You  mean 
you  are  afraid  of  the  dark,  or  is  it  the  cougar?  " 

"  It's  both  and  the  lightning,  too.  There !  See  how  it 
plays  along  those  awful  heights;  javelins  of  it;  whole 
broadsides.  I  know  it  is  foolish,  but  I  can't  help  feeling 
it  is  following  me.  It  singles  me  out,  threatens  me  as 
though  I  am  —  guilty." 

"Guilty?  You?  Of  what?"  Tisdale  put  down  the 
lantern  and  came  up  the  steps.  "  See  here,  Miss  Armi- 
tage,  come  take  your  chair."  He  moved  it  around  from 
the  table  and  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm,  impelling  her  into 
the  seat.  "  Now  face  it  out.  Those  flashes  of  heat  light- 
ning are  about  as  dangerous  as  the  Aurora  Borealis. 
You  ought  to  know  that." 

Then,  because  the  personal  contact  had  set  his  blood 
racing,  he  moved  away  to  the  edge  of  the  porch  and  stood 
frowning  off^  up  the  gorge.  He  knew  she  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands ;  he  believed  she  was  crying,  and  he  desired 
beyond  all  reason  to  take  her  to  his  heart  and  quiet  her. 
He  only  said :  "  But  I  understand.  I  have  seen  strong 
men  just  as  foolish  before  an  electrical  storm,  and  the 
bravest  woman  I  ever  knew  lost  her  grip  one  still  morning 
just  from  solitude." 

There  was  another  silence,  then  suddenly  she  lifted  her 
head.  "  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  "  but  it  is  all  over.  I 
shall  try  my  best  not  to  annoy  you  any  more." 

"  Annoy  me  ?  Why,  you  haven't.  What  makes  you 
think  that?"  Tisdale  turned,  and  the  mellowness  stole 
into  his  voice.  "  I  didn't  expect  you  to  creep  in  and  go 
to  sleep  tranquilly  alongside  that  bunch  of  sage." 

At  this  she  smiled.  "  You  have  found  a  flower  to  fit 
even  her." 


96         THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  I  never  made  a  misfit  —  yet,"  he  answered  and  waited, 
looking  into  her  face,  reading  her  through. 

"  But  you  have  doubts,"  she  supplemented,  "  and  I 
warned  you  I  should  disappoint  you.  I  warned  you  at  the 
start." 

Tisdale  laughed  again,  softly.  "  The  odds  were  all 
against  that  Alaska  violet,"  he  said,  "  but  she  weathered  it 
through."  And  seating  himself  on  the  steps,  he  looked  up 
again  to  the  night-enshrouded  Pass.  The  air  was  cooler ; 
a  light  wind,  drawing  down  from  the  divide,  brought  a  hint 
of  dampness ;  it  was  raining  somewhere,  far  off.  "  My 
doubts  are  all  right,"  he  added,  "  and  I  am  going  to  stay 
here  as  long  as  you  want  me  to." 


VIII 

THE    BRAVEST    WOMAN    HE    EVER    KNEW 

PRESENTLY,  during  one  of  the  interludes  when  dark- 
ness enveloped  the  gulf,  she  began  to  entertain  Tis- 
dale  with  an  experience  in  the  Sierras,  a  little  adventure 
on  one  of  those  journeys  with  her  father,  when  she  had 
driven  Pedro  and  Don  Jose.  But  though  she  told  the 
story  with  composure,  even  with  a  certain  vivacity  and 
charm,  as  she  might  have  narrated  it  to  a  small  and  inti- 
mate audience  in  any  safe  drawing-room,  her  self-control 
was  a  transparency  through  which  he  saw  her  anxiety 
manceuvering,  in  spite  of  his  promise,  to  keep  him  there. 

"Strange,  is  it  not?"  she  went  on,  "how  things  will 
take  the  gloss  of  humor,  looking  back.  That  cloudburst 
was  anything  but  funny  at  the  time ;  it  was  miserably  ex- 
asperating to  stand  there  drenched,  with  the  comfortable 
quarters  of  the  mining  company  in  sight,  cut  off  by  an 
impassable  washout.  And  it  was  wretched  driving  all 
those  miles  to  our  hotel  in  wet  clothes,  with  not  so  much 
as  a  dry  rug  to  cover  us ;  yet  afterwards,  whenever  I  tried 
to  tell  about  it,  I  failed  to  gain  a  shred  of  sympathy. 
People  laughed,  as  you  are  doing  now." 

"  And  you  laughed  with  them,"  answered  Tisdale 
quickly,  "  because  looking  back  you  caught  the  right  per- 
spective. It  is  always  so.  Another  incident  that  seemed 
trivial  in  passing  will  loom  up  behind  us  like  a  cliff  on  the 
horizon.  And  it  is  so  with  people.  The  man  who  held 
the  foreground  through  sheer  egoism  sinks  to  his  proper 
place  in  obscurity,  while  a  little,  white-faced  woman  we 
knew  for  a  day  stands  out  of  the  past  like  a  monument." 


98        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

His  brows  clouded;  he  turned  from  the  lantern  light  to 
look  off  again  to  the  shrouded  mountain  tops.  "  And 
looking  back,"  he  added,  "  the  man  you  thought  you  knew 
better  than  the  rest,  the  partner,  friend,  to  whom,  when 
you  were  reminded  and  it  suited  your  convenience,  you 
were  ready  to  do  a  service,  stands  out  from  the  shadows 
clearly  defined.  It  is  under  the  test  of  those  high  lights 
behind  that  his  character  shines.  You  wonder  at  his 
greatness.  His  personality  takes  a  stronger,  closer  hold, 
and  you  would  give  the  rest  of  your  life  just  to  go  back 
and  travel  the  old,  hard  road  again  with  him." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  broken  once  more  by  that  far, 
wailing  cry  on  the  wind.  Miss  Armitage  started.  She 
laid  her  hand  on  Tisdale's  shoulder,  the  nearest  object,  in 
a  tightening  grip,  while  for  a  breathless  moment  she  leaned 
forward,  trying  to  penetrate  the  darkness  of  the  gorge. 
The  action  seemed  to  remind  him  of  her  presence,  and  he 
turned  to  look  at  her.     "  Frightened  again  ?  "  he  asked. 

Her  hand  fell ;  she  settled  back  in  her  seat.  "  N-o,  not 
very  much,  but  it  took  me  off  guard.  It  sounds  so  deso- 
late, so  —  so  —  supernatural ;  like  the  cry  of  a  doomed 
soul." 

Tisdale  smiled.  "  That  describes  it,  but  you  never 
have  heard  it  at  close  range." 

She  shivered;  her  glance  moved  again  in  apprehension 
to  the  night-enshrouded  Pass*  "  Have  you,  Mr.  Tis- 
dale?" 

"  Yes,  lonesome  nights  by  a  mountain  camp-fire,  with 
just  the  wind  piping  down  a  ravine,  or  a  cataract  break- 
ing over  a  spur  to  fill  the  interlude." 

"  Oh,  that  must  have  been  terrifying,"  and  the  shiver 
crept  into  her  voice.     "  But  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  hurried  to  pull  the  embers  together  and  throw 
on  more  spruce  boughs.  A  cougar  is  cautious  around  a 
fire." 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  99 

There  was  another  silence,  then,  "  I  was  thinking  of 
your  little,  white-faced  woman,"  said  Miss  Armitage. 
"  She  baffles  me.  Was  she  your  bravest  woman  or  just 
your  anemone?     Would  you  mind  telling  me?  " 

"  So  you  were  thinking  of  her.  That's  odd ;  so  was  I." 
Tisdale  changed  his  position,  turning  to  lean  on  the  edge 
of  the  porch  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  floor.  "  But  it 
was  that  Gordon  setter  there  that  reminded  me  of  her. 
Her  dog  had  the  same  points,  though  he  had  been  better 
trained."  He  paused  briefly,  then  said :  "  She  was  both. 
She  was  like  that  small,  white  flower  which  grows  in  the 
shelter  of  the  Alaska  woods  —  sweet  and  modest  and  frail 
looking  —  yet  she  was  the  bravest  woman  and  the  strong- 
est when  it  came  to  endurance  I  ever  knew." 

"  It  happened,  of  course,  in  Alaska,"  Miss  Armitage 
ventured,  breaking  the  pause,     "  You  knew  her  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  in  Alaska  and  about  five  years  ago.  The 
season  I  gave  up  getting  rich  in  a  hurry  and  went  back  to 
geological  work.  I  had  spent  the  winter  on  the  Tanana 
with  David  Weatherbee.  We  had  staked  a  promising 
placer,  and  we  were  ready  to  begin  sluicing  with  the  first 
spring  thaw,  when  he  sold  his  interest  unexpectedly  to 
meet  an  obligation  down  in  the  States.  That  nettled  me, 
and  I  sold  out  my  own  share  to  the  same  men  and  accepted 
a  position  with  the  department,  who  had  written  to  ask  me 
to  take  charge  of  a  party  working  above  Seward. 
Weatherbee  started  with  me,  but  I  left  him  to  prospect 
along  the  headwaters  of  the  Su^itna.  My  surveys  kept  me 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Turnagain  Arm  until  midsummer, 
when  I  moved  camp  up  the  river  to  the  mouth  of  an  un- 
explored tributary.  It  was  the  kind  of  stream  to  lure  a 
prospector  or  a  sportsman,  clear,  rapid,  broken  by  rif- 
fles and  sand-bars,  while  the  grassy  shores  looked  favor- 
able for  elk  or  caribou.  To  bridge  the  delay  while  the 
last  pack-horses  straggled  in  and  the  men  were  busy  pitch- 


100      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ing  tents  and  putting  things  into  shape,  I  decided  to  go 
on  a  short  hunting  trip.  I  traveled  light,  with  only  a 
single  blanket  rolled  compactly  for  my  shoulder  strap,  in 
case  the  short  night  should  overtake  me,  with  a  generous 
lunch  that  Sandy,  the  cook,  had  supplied,  but  at  the  end 
of  two  hours'  steady  tramping  I  had  sighted  nothing.  I 
had  reached  a  wooded  ravine  and  a  snow-peak,  apparently 
the  source  of  the  stream,  closed  the  top  of  the  gorge.  It 
was  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  over  a  hundred  miles  from 
a  settlement  and  off  the  track  of  road-houses,  but  a  few 
rods  on  I  came  upon  the  flume  and  dump  of  a  placer  mine. 
The  miner's  cabin  stood  a  little  farther  up  the  bank  under 
a  clump  of  spruce,  but  the  place  seemed  abandoned. 
Then  I  noticed  some  berry  bushes  near  the  sluice  had  been 
lately  snapped  off^,  where  some  heavy  animal  had  pushed 
through,  and  a  moment  later,  in  the  moist  soil  at  a  small 
spillway,  I  picked  up  the  trail  of  a  large  bear. 

"  The  tracks  led  me  up  the  rough  path  towards  the 
cabin,  but  midway  I  came  to  a  fallen  tree.  It  must  have 
been  down  a  week  or  more,  but  no  attempt  had  been  made 
to  clear  the  trail  or  to  cut  through,  so,  pushing  up  over 
the  matted  boughs,  I  leaped  from  the  bole  to  avoid  the 
litter  beyond  At  the  same  instant  I  saw  under  me, 
wedged  in  the  broken  branches,  the  body  of  my  bear.  He 
was  a  huge  grizzly,  and  must  have  made  an  easy  and  ugly 
target  as  he  lumbered  across  the  barricade.  I  found  one 
bullet  had  taken  him  nearly  between  the  eyes,  while  an- 
other had  lodged  in  the  shoulder.  And  it  was  plain  the 
shots  were  aimed  from  the  window,  with  the  rifle  probably 
resting  on  the  sill. 

"  As  I  went  on  up  the  path,  the  loud  baying  of  a  dog 
came  from  the  cabin,  then  a  woman's  face,  young  and 
small  and  very  white,  appeared  at  the  window.  Seeing 
me,  she  turned  quickly  and  threw  open  the  door.  The 
next  instant  her  hand  fell  to  the  neck  of  a  fine  Gordon 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMaK  7kOV 

setter  and,  tugging  at  his  collar,  she  drew  back  and  stood 
surveying  me  from  head  to  foot.  '  It's  all  right,  madam,' 
I  said,  stopping  before  her.  '  Don't  try  to  hold  him. 
The  bear  won't  trouble  you  any  more.  You  made  a 
mighty  fine  shot.' 

"  '  Oh,'  she  said,  and  let  the  dog  go,  *  I  am  so  glad  you 
have  come.'  And  she  sank  into  a  chair,  shaking  and  sob- 
bing." 

"  You  mean,"  exclaimed  Miss  Armitage  breathlessly, 
"  it  was  she  who  killed  the  bear.?  " 

Tisdale  nodded  gently.  "  I  wish  I  could  make  you  un- 
derstand the  situation.  She  was  not  a  sportswoman. 
She  was  city  bred  and  had  been  carefully  reared  —  accus- 
tomed to  have  things  done  for  her.  I  saw  this  at  a  glance. 
Only  her  extremity  and  the  fear  that  the  dog  would  be 
hurt  nerved  her  to  shoot." 

"  Oh,  I  see,  I  see,"  said  Miss  Armitage.  "  Fate  had 
brought  her,  left  her  in  that  solitary  place  —  alone." 

"  Fate  ?  "  Tisdale  questioned.  "  Well,  perhaps,  but  not 
maliciously;  not  in  jest.  On  second  thought  I  would  not 
lay  it  to  Fate  at  all.  You  see,  she  had  come  voluntarily, 
willingly,  though  blindly  enough.  She  was  one  of  the  few 
women  who  are  capable  of  a  great  love." 

Tisdale  waited,  but  the  woman  beside  him  had  no  more 
to  say.  "  I  saw  I  must  give  her  time  to  gather  her  self- 
control,"  he  went  on,  "  so  I  turned  my  attention  to  the 
setter,  who  was  alternately  springing  on  me  and  excitedly 
wagging  his  tail.  I  like  a  good  dog,  and  I  soon  had  him 
familiarly  snuffing  my  pockets;  then  he  stretched  himself 
playfully,  with  an  inquiring,  almost  human  yawn;  but 
suddenly  remembering  the  bear,  he  stood  pointing,  head 
up,  forepaw  lifted,  and  made  a  rush,  baying  furiously. 

"  '  It's  all  right,  madam,'  I  repeated  and  stepped  into 
the  room.  *  You  made  a  fine  shot,  and  that  bearskin  is 
going  to  make  a  great  rug  for  your  floor.' 


102      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  She  lifted  her  face,  downing  a  last  sob,  and  gave  me  a 
brave  little  smile.  '  It  isn't  altogether  the  bear,'  she 
explained.  '  It's  partly  because  I  haven't  seen  any 
one  for  so  long,  and  partly  because,  for  a  moment,  I 
thought  you  were  my  husband.  I've  been  worried  about 
him.  He  has  been  gone  over  three  weeks,  and  he  never 
stayed  longer  than  five  days  before.  But  it  was  a  relief 
to  have  you  come.' 

"  It  sounds  differently  when  I  repeat  it.  You  lose  the 
sweet  shyness  of  her  face,  the  appeal  in  her  eyes  not  yet 
dry,  and  that  soft  minor  chord  in  her  voice  that  reminds 
me  now  of  a  wood-thrush. 

" '  I  understand,'  I  hurried  to  say,  '  the  solitude  has 
grown  intolerable.  I  know  what  that  means.  I  have  lived 
so  long  in  the  eternal  stillness  sometimes  that  the  first  pat- 
ter of  a  rain  on  the  leaves  came  like  the  tramp  of  an  army, 
and  the  snapping  of  a  twig  rang  sharp  as  a  pistol  shot.' 

" '  You  do  understand,'  she  said.  '  You  have  been 
through  it.  And,  of  course,  you  see  my  husband  had  to 
leave  me.  The  trail  up  the  canyon  is  the  merest  thread. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  for  me,  and  I  should  have 
only  hindered  him,  now,  when  every  day  counts.' 

"  '  You  mean,'  I  said,  '  he  has  left  his  placer  to  prospect 
for  the  main  lode  above.?  '  And  she  answered  yes.  That 
every  gravel  bar  made  a  better  showing ;  the  last  trip  had 
taken  him  above  the  tree  line,  and  this  time  he  expected 
to  prospect  along  the  glacier  at  the  source  of  the  stream. 
Sometimes  erosions  laid  veins  open,  and  any  hour  '  he 
might  stumble  on  riches.'  She  smiled  again,  though  her 
lip  trembled,  then  said  it  was  his  limited  outfit  that  trou- 
bled her  most.  He  had  taken  only  a  light  blanket  and  a 
small  allowance  of  bacon  and  bread. 

"  '  But,'  I  reassured  her,  '  there  is  almost  a  certainty  he 
has  found  game  at  this  season  of  the  year.' 

"  She  looked  at  the  rifle  she  had  set  by  the  window 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  103 

against  the  wall.  *  I  haven't  been  able  to  persuade  him 
to  take  the  gun,'  she  explained,  '  for  a  long  time.  He 
doesn't  hunt  any  more.'  She  stopped,  watching  me,  and 
locked  her  slim  hands.  Then,  '  He  is  greatly  changed,' 
she  went  on.  '  The  last  time  he  came  home,  he  hardly 
noticed  me.  He  spent  the  whole  evening  sitting  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  floor  —  without  a  word.  And  the  next 
morning,  before  I  was  awake,  he  was  gone.' 

"  At  last  her  real  fear  was  clear  to  me.  There  is  a  ter- 
rible fascination  about  those  Alaska  gold  streams.  Each 
gravel  bar  has  just  showing  enough  to  lead  a  man  on  and 
on.  He  hugs  the  belief  from  hour  to  hour  he  is  on  the 
brink  of  a  great  find,  until  he  has  eyes  for  nothing  but  the 
colors  in  the  sand.  He  forgets  hunger,  weariness,  every- 
thing, and  finally,  if  rescue  fails  him,  he  sinks  in  complete 
collapse.  More  than  once  I  had  come  on  such  a  wreck, 
straying  demented,  babbling,  all  but  famished  in  the  hills. 
And  I  was  sorry  for  that  little  woman.  I  understood  the 
pitch  she  must  have  reached  to  speak  so  freely  to  a  pass- 
ing stranger.  But  it  was  hard  to  find  just  the  right  thing 
to  say,  and  while  I  stood  choosing  words,  she  hurried  to  ex- 
plain that  two  days  before  she  had  taken  the  dog  and 
tramped  up-stream  as  far  as  she  had  dared,  hoping  to  meet 
her  husband,  and  that  she  had  intended  to  go  even  farther 
that  day,  but  had  been  prevented,  as  I  saw,  by  the  bear, 
who  had  prowled  about  the  cabin  the  greater  part  of  the 
night.  The  setter's  continual  barking  and  growling  had 
failed  to  drive  him  away. 

"  '  If  you  had  gone  this  morning,'  I  said,  '  I  should  have 
missed  you ;  then  I  shouldn't  have  known  about  your  hus- 
band. I  am  on  my  way  up  this  canyon,  and  I  shall  look 
for  him.  And,  when  I  find  him,  I  shall  do  my  best  to 
bring  him  in  touch  with  the  outside  world  again.'  " 

Tisdale  paused.  The  abrupt  slope  that  over-topped  the 
portable  cabin  began  to  take  shape  in  the  darkness.     It 


104      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  the  appearance  of  a  sail  looming  through  fog.  Then 
the  shadows  scattered,  and  the  belated  moon,  lifting  over 
the  dunes  beyond  the  Columbia,  silvered  the  mouth  of  the 
gorge.  It  was  as  though  that  other  distant  canyon,  of 
which  he  was  thinking,  opened  before  him  into  unknown 
solitudes. 

Miss  Armitage  leaned  forward,  watching  his  face,  wait- 
ing for  the  issue  of  the  story. 

"  And. you  found  him?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

"Yes.  In  the  end."  Tisdale's  glance  returned  and, 
meeting  hers,  the  grim  lines  in  his  face  relaxed.  "  But 
there  was  a  long  and  rough  tramp  first.  She  urged  me 
to  take  the  setter,  and  I  saw  the  advantage  in  having  a 
good  dog  with  me  on  such  a  search;  any  cleft,  or  thicket, 
or  sprinkle  of  boulders,  might  easily  conceal  a  man's  body 
from  one  passing  only  a  few  feet  off  —  but,  much  as  he 
favored  me,  he  was  not  to  be  coaxed  far  from  his  mistress ; 
so  I  suggested  she  should  go,  too. 

*' '  Oh,'  she  said,  catching  at  the  chance,  '  do  you  think 
Jerry  can  make  up  for  the  delay,  if  I  do.^^  I  will  travel 
my  best,  I  promise  you.'  And  she  led  the  way,  picking 
up  the  faint  trail  and  setting  a  pace  that  I  knew  must  soon 
tire  her,  while  the  dog  brushed  by  us,  bounding  ahead  and 
rushing  back  and  expressing  his  satisfaction  in  all  sorts  of 
manoeuvers. 

"  In  a  little  while,  above  the  timber  —  the  tree  line  is 
low  on  those  Alaska  mountainsides  —  we  came  to  a  broad, 
grassy  bog  set  deep  between  two  spurs,  and  she  was  forced 
to  give  me  the  lead.  Then  the  canyon  walls  grew  steeper, 
lifting  into  rugged  knobs.  Sometimes  I  lost  the  pros- 
pector's trail  in  a  rock-choked  torrent  and  picked  it  up 
again,  where  it  hung  like  a  thin  ribbon  on  a  heather-grown 
slope ;  but  it  never  wound  or  doubled  if  there  was  foothold 
ahead.  It  led  up  stairs  of  graywacke,  along  the  brink  of 
slaty  cliffs  that  dropped  sheer,  hundreds  of  feet  to  the 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  105 

stream  below.  Still  she  kept  on  pluckily,  and  whenever  I 
turned  to  help  her,  I  found  her  there  at  my  elbow,  ready. 
Now  and  then  in  breadths  of  level,  where  it  was  possible  to 
walk  abreast,  we  talked  a  little,  but  most  of  the  distance 
was  covered  in  silence.  I  felt  more  and  more  sorry  for 
her.  She  was  so  eager,  patient,  watchful,  forever  scan- 
ning the  pitches  on  either  side.  And  if  the  setter  made  a 
sudden  break,  scenting  a  hare  perhaps,  or  starting  a 
ptarmigan,  she  always  stopped,  waiting  with  a  light  in 
her  face ;  and  when  he  j  ogged  back  to  her  heels,  the  expec- 
tation settled  into  patience  again. 

"  Finally  we  came  to  a  rill  where  I  urged  her  to  rest ; 
and  when  I  had  spread  my  blanket  on  a  boulder,  she  took 
the  seat,  leaning  comfortably  against  a  higher  rock,  and 
watched  me  while  I  opened  the  tin  box  in  which  Sandy  had 
stored  my  lunch.  She  told  me  my  cook  made  a  good  sand- 
wich and  knew  how  to  fry  a  bird  Southern  fashion.  Then 
she  spoke  of  the  Virginia  town  where  she  had  lived  before 
her  marriage.  The  trip  west  had  been  her  wedding  jour- 
ney, and  her  husband,  who  was  an  architect,  had  intended 
to  open  an  office  in  a  new  town  on  Puget  Sound,  but  at 
Seattle  he  caught  the  Alaska  fever. 

"  '  The  future  looked  very  certain  and  brilliant  then,'  she 
said,  with  her  smile,  '  but  as  long  as  I  have  my  husband, 
nothing  else  counts.  I  could  live  out  my  life,  be  happy 
here  in  this  wilderness,  anywhere,  with  him.  If  I  could 
only  have  him  back  —  as  he  used  to  be.'  " 

Tisdale's  voice  softened,  vibrating  gently,  so  that  the 
pathos  of  it  all  must  have  impressed  the  coldest  listener. 
The  woman  beside  him  trembled  and  lifted  her  hand  to 
her  throat. 

"  I  can't  remember  all  she  told  me,"  he  went  on,  "  but 
her  husband  had  left  her  in  Seattle  when  he  started  north, 
and  the  next  season,  when  he  failed  to  return  for  her,  she 
had  sailed  to  Seward  in  search  of  him.     She  had  tried  to 


106      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

influence  him  to  give  up  the  placer,  when  she  saw  the 
change  in  him;  at  least  to  go  down  to  one  of  the  coast 
towns  and  take  up  the  work  for  which  he  had  prepared, 
but  he  had  delayed,  with  promises,  until  he  was  beyond 
listening  to  her. 

" '  Of  course  he  may  stumble  on  riches  any  hour,  as  he 
believes,'  she  said  finally,  '  but  not  all  the  comforts  or 
luxuries  in  the  world  are  worth  the  price.'  She  did  not 
break  down,  as  she  had  in  the  cabin,  but  somehow  I  could 
hear  the  tears  falling  in  her  voice.  I  can  yet,  and  see 
them  big  and  shining  deep  in  her  eyes. 

"  But  she  was  off  again,  making  up  the  delay,  before 
I  could  fasten  my  pack,  and  when  I  overtook  her  in  a  level 
stretch  and  halted  a  moment  to  frolic  with  the  dog,  her 
face  brightened.  Then  she  spoke  of  a  little  trick  she  had 
taught  him, —  to  go  and  meet  his  master  and  fetch  his  hat 
to  her.  Sometimes  she  had  hidden  it  in  shrubs,  or  among 
rocks,  but  invariably  he  had  brought  it  home. 

"  At  last  we  made  a  turn  and  saw  the  front  of  the 
glacier  that  closed  the  top  of  the  gorge.  The  stream 
gushed  from  a  cavern  at  the  foot,  and  above  the  noise  of 
water  sounded  the  grinding  and  roaring  of  subterranean 
forces  at  work.  Once  in  a  while  a  stone  was  hurled 
through.  But  that  is  impossible  to  explain.  You  must 
have  been  on  intimate  terms  with  a  glacier  to  grasp  the 
magnitude.  Still,  try  to  imagine  the  ice  arching  that  cave 
like  a  bridge  and  lifting  back,  rimmed  in  moraine,  far  and 
away  to  the  great  white  dome.  And  it  was  all  wrapped  in 
a  fine  Alpine  splendor,  so  that  she  stopped  beside  me  in  a 
sort  of  hushed  wonder  to  look.  But  I  could  hear  her 
breath,  laboring  hard  and  quick,  and  she  rocked  uncer- 
tainly on  her  feet.  I  laid  my  hand  on  her  arm  to  steady 
her.  It  was  time  we  turned  back.  For  half  an  hour  I 
had  been  gathering  courage  to  tell  her  so.  While  I  hesi- 
tated, allowing  her  a  few  minutes  to  take  in  the  glory,  the 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  107 

setter  ran  nosing  ahead,  up  over  the  wreckage  along  the 
edge  of  the  glacier,  and  on  across  the  bridge.  I  waited 
until  he  disappeared  in  a  small  pocket,  then  began :  "  You 
know,  madam,  what  all  this  color  means.  These  twilights 
linger,  and  it  will  be  easier  traveling  down-grade,  but  we 
must  hurry,  to  have  you  home  before  dark.' 

"  She  turned  to  answer  but  stopped,  looking  beyond  me 
to  the  bridge.  Then  I  saw  the  setter  had  caught  her  at- 
tention. He  was  coming  back.  His  black  body  moved  in 
strong  relief  against  the  ice-field,  and  I  noticed  he  had 
something  in  his  mouth.  It  seemed  about  the  size  and 
color  of  a  grouse, —  a  ptarmigan,  no  doubt.  Then  it 
flashed  over  me  the  thing  was  a  hat.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment I  felt  her  tremble,  and  I  had  just  time  to  see  that  her 
face  had  gone  white,  when  she  sank  against  me,  a  dead 
weight.  I  carried  her  a  few  yards  to  a  bank  of  heather 
and  laid  her  down,  and  while  I  was  filling  my  folding  cup 
at  the  stream,  the  dog  bounded  over  the  rocks  and  dropped 
the  thing  on  her  breast.  It  was  a  hat,  a  gray  felt  with  a 
good  brim,  such  as  a  prospector,  or  indeed  any  man  who 
lives  in  the  open,  favors ;  but  the  setter's  actions, —  he 
alternately  rushed  towards  the  glacier  and  back  to  his 
mistress,  with  short  yelps, —  warned  me  to  be  careful,  and 
I  tucked  the  hat  out  of  sight,  between  two  stones.  The 
dog  had  it  out  instantly,  bent  on  giving  it  to  her,  but  I 
snatched  it  from  him  and  threw  it  into  the  torrent,  where 
it  struck  upright,  floating  lightly  on  the  brim,  and  lodged 
in  a  shallow.  He  followed  and  came  bounding  back  with 
it,  while  I  was  raising  the  cup  to  her  lips,  and  I  had  barely 
a  chance  to  crowd  it  into  my  blanket  roll  when  she  opened 
her  eyes.  '  He  had  Louis'  hat,'  she  said  and  drifted  into 
unconsciousness  again. 

"  I  took  my  flask  from  my  pocket  and,  blaming  myself 
for  bringing  her  that  hard  trip,  mixed  a  draught.  It 
revived  her,  and  in  a  moment  she  started  up.     *  Where  is 


108      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  hat  ?  '  she  asked,  looking  about  her.  '  Jerry  had  it  on 
the  ice-bridge.' 

"  At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  dog,  who  had  been  try- 
ing to  get  at  the  hat,  commenced  his  manoeuvers  to  attract 
her  across  the  gorge,  bounding  ahead,  calling  her  with  his 
short,  excited  barks,  and  making  all  the  signs  of  a  hunt- 
ing dog  impatient  to  lead  to  the  quarry.  She  tried  to  get 
to  her  feet,  but  I  put  my  hand  on  her  shoulder.  '  Wait, 
madam,'  I  said.  '  You  must  rest  a  little  longer  before  you 
try  to  start  back.  You  were  so  tired  you  fainted.  And 
your  eyes  must  have  played  you  a  trick.' 

"  *  You  mean,'  she  began  and  stopped. 

"  I  am  not  much  of  a  dissembler,  and  I  found  it  hard  to 
meet  her  look,  but  I  answered  with  all  the  assurance  I 
could  muster.  '  I  mean,  madam,  you  are  mistaken  about 
that  hat.' 

"  She  waited  a  moment,  watching  the  setter,  then  her 
glance  moved  back  incredulously  to  me.  '  Then  what  ex- 
cites Jerry?  '  she  asked. 

" '  Why,'  I  hurried  to  answer,  '  just  another  bunch  of 
ptarmigan,  probably.  But  while  you  are  resting  here,  I 
will  go  over  into  that  pocket  to  satisfy  him.' 

"  The  setter,  content  with  my  company,  ran  ahead,  and 
I  followed  him  across  the  ice-bridge.  The  pocket  was 
thickly  strewn  with  broken  rock,  but  at  the  upper  end 
there  was  a  clear  space  grown  with  heather.  And  it  was 
there,  as  I  feared,  between  a  bluff  and  a  solitary  thumb- 
shaped  boulder  that  the  dog  had  found  his  master." 

Tisdale  paused,  looking  off  again  with  clouding  brows 
to  the  stormy  heights.  Eastward  the  moon  in  a  clear  sky 
threw  a  soft  illumination  on  the  desert.  The  cry  of  the 
cougar  had  ceased.  The  electrical  display  was  less  bril- 
liant ;  it  seemed  farther  off.  Miss  Armitage  moved  a  lit- 
tle and  waited,  watching  his  face. 

"  But  of  course,"  she  ventured  at  last,  "  you  mixed  an- 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  109 

other  draught  from  your  emergency  flask.  The  stimulant 
saved  his  life." 

"  No."  Tisdale's  glance  came  slowly  back.  "  He  was 
beyond  any  help.  A  square  of  canvas  was  set  obliquely  on 
the  glacier  side,  and  that  and  the  blanket  which  covered 
him  proved  the  place  was  his  camp;  but  the  only  traces 
of  food  were  a  few  cracker  or  bread  crumbs  in  a  trap  made 
of  twigs,  and  a  marmot  skin  and  a  bunch  of  ptarmigan 
feathers  to  show  the  primitive  contrivance  had  worked. 
There  was  no  wood  in  the  neighborhood,  but  the  ashes  of  a 
small  fire  showed  he  must  have  carried  fuel  from  the  belt 
of  spruce  half-way  down  the  gorge.  If  he  had  made  such 
a  trip  and  not  gone  on  to  the  cabin,  it  clearly  proved  his 
mental  condition.  Still  in  the  end  there  had  been  a  glim- 
mer of  light,  for  he  had  torn  a  leaf  from  his  notebook  and 
written  first  his  wife's  name  and  then  a  line,  out  of  which 
I  was  only  able  to  pick  the  words  '  give '  and  '  help '  and 
*  States.'  Evidently  he  had  tried  to  put  the  paper  into 
his  poke,  which  had  dropped,  untied,  from  his  hand  with 
the  pencil  he  had  used.  The  sack  was  nearly  full;  it  had 
fallen  upright  in  a  fold  of  the  blanket,  so  only  a  little  of 
the  gold,  which  was  very  coarse  and  rough  and  bright,  had 
spilled.  I  made  all  this  inventory  almost  at  a  glance,  and 
saw  directly  he  had  left  his  pan  and  shovel  in  the  gravels 
of  a  stream  that  cascaded  over  the  wall  and  through  the 
pocket  to  join  the  creek  below  the  glacier.  Then  it  came 
over  me  that  I  must  keep  the  truth  from  her  until  she  was 
safely  back  at  the  cabin,  and  I  put  the  poke  in  my  pocket 
and  hurried  to  do  what  I  could. 

"  The  setter  hampered  me  and  was  frantic  when  I 
turned  away,  alternately  following  me  a  few  yards,  whin- 
ing and  begging,  and  rushing  back  to  his  master.  Finally 
he  stopped  on  the  farther  side  of  the  ice-bridge  and  set  up 
a  prolonged  cry.  .  His  mistress  had  come  to  meet  me  and 
she  waited  at  the  crossing,  supporting  herself  with  her 


110       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

hands  on  a  great  boulder,  shoulders  forward,  breath 
hushed,  watching  me  with  her  soul  in  her  eyes.  At  last  I 
reached  her.  *  Madam,'  I  began,  but  the  words  caught  in 
my  throat.  I  turned  and  looked  up  at  the  splendor  on  the 
mountain.  The  air  drew  sharp  across  the  ice,  but  a  sud- 
den heat  swept  me ;  I  was  wet  with  perspiration  from  head 
to  foot.  '  Madam,'  and  I  forced  myself  to  meet  her  eyes, 
'  it  is  just  as  I  expected;  the  dog  found  —  nothing.' 

"  She  straightened  herself  slowly,  still  watching  me,  then 
suddenly  threw  her  arms  against  the  rock  and  dropped  her 
face.  '  Come,'  I  said,  '  we  must  start  back.  Come,  I 
want  to  hurry  through  to  my  camp  for  a  horse.' 

"  This  promise  was  all  she  needed  to  call  up  her  supreme 
self-control,  and  she  lifted  her  face  with  a  smile  that  cut 
me  worse  than  any  tears.  '  I'm  not  ungrateful,'  she  said, 
*  but  —  I  felt  so  sure,  from  the  first,  you  would  find  him.' 

"  *  And  you  felt  right,'  I  hurried  to  answer.  '  Trust  me 
to  bring  him  through.' 

''  I  whistled  the  setter,  and  she  called  repeatedly,  but  he 
refused  to  follow.  When  we  started  down  the  trail,  he 
watched  us  from  his  post  at  the  farther  end  of  the  ice- 
bridge,  whining  and  baying,  and  the  moment  she  stopped 
at  the  first  turn  to  look  back,  he  streaked  off  once  more  for 
that  pocket.  '  Never  mind,'  I  said,  and  helped  her  over  a 
rough  place,  *  Jerry  knows  he  is  a  good  traveler.  He  will 
be  home  before  you.'  But  it  was  plain  to  me  he  would  not, 
and  try  as  I  might  to  hurry  her  out  of  range  of  his  cry, 
it  belled  again  soon,  and  the  cliffs  caught  it  over  and  over 
and  passed  it  on  to  us  far  down  the  gorge." 

There  was  one  of  those  speaking  silences  in  which  the 
great  heart  of  the  man  found  expression,  and  the  woman 
beside  him,  following  his  gaze,  sifted  the  cloudy  Pass. 
She  seemed  in  that  moment  to  see  that  other  canyon, 
stretching  down  from  the  glacier,  and  those  two  skirting 
the  edge  of  cliffs,  treading  broken  stairs,  pursued  by  the 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  111 

cry  of  the  setter  into  the  gathering  gloom  of  the  Arctic 
night. 

"  It  grew  very  cold  in  that  gorge,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I 
blamed  myself  for  taking  her  that  trip  more  and  more. 
She  never  complained,  never  stopped,  except  to  look  back 
and  listen  for  the  dog,  but  shadows  deepened  under  her 
eyes ;  the  patient  lines  seemed  chiseled  where  they  had 
been  only  lightly  drawn,  and  when  she  caught  me  watching 
her  and  coaxed  up  her  poor  little  smile,  I  could  have 
picked  her  up  in  my  arms  and  carried  her  the  rest  of  the 
way.  But  we  reached  the  tree-line  before  she  came  to  her 
limit.  It  was  at  the  turn  in  a  cliff,  and  I  stopped,  looking 
down  across  the  tops  of  a  belt  of  spruce,  to  locate  the 
cabin.  '  There  it  is,'  I  said.  '  You  see  that  little  brown 
patch  down  there  in  the  blur  of  green.  That  is  your 
house.     You  are  almost  home.' 

"  She  moved  a  step  to  see  better  and  stumbled,  and  she 
only  saved  herself  by  catching  my  arm  in  both  hands. 
Then  her  whole  body  fell  to  shaking.  I  felt  unnerved  a  lit- 
tle, for  that  matter.  It  was  a  dangerous  place.  I  had 
been  recklessly  foolish  to  delay  her  there.  But  when  I 
had  found  a  safe  seat  for  her  around  the  cliff,  the  shiver- 
ing kept  up,  chill  after  chill,  and  I  mixed  a  draught  for 
her,  as  I  had  at  the  glacier. 

" '  This  will  warm  your  blood,'  I  said,  holding  the  cup 
for  her.  *  Come,  madam,  we  must  fight  the  cold  off  for  an- 
other hour ;  that  should  see  you  home.  After  I  have  made 
a  good  fire,  I  am  going  to  show  you  what  a  fine  little  sup- 
per I  can  prepare.     Bear  steaks  at  this  season  are  prime.' 

"  I  laughed  to  encourage  her,  and  because  the  chills  were 
still  obstinate,  I  hurried  to  unstrap  my  blanket  to  wrap 
around  her.  And  I  only  remembered  the  hat  when  it 
dropped  at  her  feet.  She  did  not  cry  out  but  sat  like  a 
marble  woman,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  it.  Then,  after  a 
while,  she  bent  and  lifted  it  and  began  to  shape  it  gently 


112      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

with  her  numb  little  fingers.  She  was  beyond  tears,  and 
the  white  stillness  of  her  face  made  me  more  helpless  than 
any  sobbing.  I  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  to  comfort 
her  and  turned  away,  looking  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
cabin.     It  seemed  suddenly  a  long  distance  off. 

"  Finally  she  spoke,  slowly  at  first,  convincing  herself. 
'  Jerry  did  bring  it  across  the  ice-bridge.  He  found  Louis 
and  stayed  to  watch,  as  I  thought.  Sir,  now  tell  me  the 
truth.' 

"  I  turned  back  to  her,  and  it  came  bluntly  enough. 
Then  I  explained  it  was  not  an  accident  or  anything  ter- 
rible ;  that  the  end  had  come  easily,  probably  the  previous 
night,  of  heart  failure.  '  But  I  couldn't  nerve  myself  to 
tell  you  up  there,'  I  said,  '  with  all  those  miles  of  hard 
travel  before  you;  and  I  am  going  back  to-morrow,  as  I 
promised,  to  bring  him  through.' 

"  She  had  nothing  to  say  but  rose  and  held  out  her 
hand.  In  a  little  while  I  began  to  lead  her  down  through 
the  belt  of  spruce.  I  moved  very  slowly,  choosing  steps, 
for  she  paid  no  attention  to  her  footing.  Her  hand  rested 
limply  in  mine,  and  she  stumbled,  like  one  whose  light  has 
gone  out  in  a  dark  place." 

Tisdale's  story  was  finished,  but  Miss  Armitage  waited, 
listening.  It  was  as  though  in  the  silence  she  heard  his 
unexpressed  thoughts. 

"  But  her  life  was  wrecked,"  she  said  at  last.  "  She 
never  could  forget.  Think  of  it!  The  terror  of  those 
weeks ;  the  long-drawn  suspense.  She  should  not  have 
stayed  in  Alaska.  She  should  have  gone  home  at  the  be- 
ginning. She  was  not  able  to  help  her  husband.  Her  in- 
fluence was  lost." 

"  True,"  Tisdale  answered  slowly.  "  Long  before  that 
day  I  found  her,  she  must  have  known  it  was  a  losing  fight. 
But  the  glory  of  the  battle  is  not  always  to  the  victor. 
And  she  blamed  herself  that  she  had  not  gone  north  with 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  113 

her  husband  at  the  start.  You  see  she  loved  him,  and  love 
with  that  kind  of  woman  means  self-sacrifice;  she  counted 
it  a  privilege  to  have  been  there,  to  have  faced  the  worst 
with  him,  done  what  she  could." 

Miss  Armitage  straightened,  lifting  her  head  with  that 
movement  of  a  flower  shaken  on  its  stem.  "  Every  woman 
owes  it  to  herself  to  keep  her  self-respect,"  she  said. 
"  She  owes  it  to  her  family  —  the  past  and  future  genera- 
tions of  her  race  —  to  make  the  most  of  her  life." 

"  And  she  made  the  most  of  hers,"  responded  Tisdale 
quickly.  "  That  was  her  crowning  year."  He  hesitated, 
then  said  quietly,  with  his  upward  look  from  under  slightly 
frowning  brows :  "  And  it  was  just  that  reason,  the  debt 
to  her  race,  that  buoyed  her  all  the  way  through.  It  con- 
trolled her  there  at  the  glacier  and  gave  her  strength  to 
turn  back,  when  the  setter  refused  to  come.  Afterwards, 
in  mid-winter,  when  news  of  the  birth  of  her  son  came  down 
from  Seward,  I  understood." 

An  emotion  like  a  transparent  shadow  crossed  his  lis- 
tener's face.  "  That  changes  everything,"  she  said.  "  But 
of  course  you  returned  the  next  day  with  a  horse  to  do  as 
you  promised,  and  afterwards  helped  her  out  to  civiliza- 
tion." 

"  I  saw  Louis  Barbour  buried,  yes."  Tisdale's  glance 
traveled  ofi^  again  to  the  distant  Pass.  "  We  chose  a  low 
mound,  sheltered  by  a  solitary  spruce,  between  the  cabin 
and  the  creek,  and  I  inscribed  his  name  and  the  date  on 
the  trunk  of  the  tree.  But  my  time  belonged  to  the  Gov- 
ernment. I  had  a  party  in  the  field,  and  the  Alaska  season 
is  short.  It  fell  to  David  Weatherbee  to  see  her  down  to 
Seward." 

"  To  David  Weatherbee  ? "  Miss  Armitage  started. 
Protest  fluctuated  with  the  surprise  in  her  voice.  "  But 
I  see,  I  see !  "  and  she  settled  back  in  her  seat.  "  You  sent 
him  word.     He  had  known  her  previously." 


114      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  No.  When  I  left  him  early  in  the  spring,  he  intended 
to  prospect  down  the  headwaters  of  the  Susitna,  you  re- 
member, and  I  was  carrying  my  surveys  back  from  the 
lower  valley.  We  were  working  toward  each  other,  and 
I  expected  to  meet  him  any  day.  In  fact,  I  had  mail  for 
him  at  my  camp  that  had  come  by  way  of  Seward,  so  I 
hardly  was  surprised  the'  next  morning,  when  I  made  the 
last  turn  below  the  glacier  with  my  horse  to  see  old 
Weatherbee  coming  over  the  ice-bridge. 

"  He  had  made  a  discovery  at  the  source  of  that  little 
tributary,  where  the  erosion  of  the  glacier  had  opened  a 
rich  vein,  and  on  following  the  stream  through  graywackes 
and  slate  to  the  first  gravelled  fissure,  he  had  found  the 
storage  plant  for  his  placer  gold.  He  was  on  his  way  out 
to  have  the  claim  recorded  and  get  supplies  and  mail  when 
he  heard  the  baying  setter  and,  rounding  the  mouth  of  the' 
pocket,  saw  the  camp  and  the  dead  prospector.  After- 
wards, when  he  had  talked  with  the  woman  waiting  down 
the  canyon,  he  asked  to  see  her  husband's  poke  and  com- 
pared the  gold  with  the  sample  he  had  panned.  It  was  the 
same,  coarse  and  rough,  with  little  scraps  of  quartz  cling- 
ing to  the  bigger  flakes  sometimes,  and  he  insisted  the 
strike  was  Barbour's.  He  tried  to  persuade  her  to  make 
the  entry,  but  she  refused,  and  finally  they  compromised 
with  a  partnership." 

"  So  they  were  partners."  Miss  Armitage  paused,  then 
went  on  with  a  touch  of  frostiness :  "  And  they  traveled 
those  miles  of  wilderness  alone,  for  days  together,  out  to 
the  coast." 

"Yes."  Tisdale's  glance,  coming  back,  challenged 
hers.  "  Sometimes  the  wilderness  enforces  a  social  code 
of  her  own.  Miss  Armitage," —  his  voice  vibrated  softly, 
— "  I  wish  you  had  known  David  Weatherbee.  But  im- 
agine Sir  Galahad,  that  whitest  knight  of  the  whole  Round 
Table,  Sir  Galahad  on  that  Alaska  trail,  to-day.     And 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  115 

Weatherbee  was  doubly  anxious  to  reach  Seward.  There 
was  a  letter  from  his  wife  in  that  packet  of  mail  I  gave 
him.  She  had  written  she  was  taking  the  opportunity  to 
travel  as  far  as  Seward  with  some  friends,  who  were  mak- 
ing the  summer  tour  of  the  coast.  But  he  was  ready  to 
cut  the  trip  into  short  and  easy  stages  to  see  Mrs.  Barbour 
through.  '  It's  all  right,'  he  said  at  the  start.  '  Leave 
it  to  me.     I  am  going  to  take  this  lady  to  my  wife.'  " 

"  And  —  at  Seward  ?  "  questioned  Miss  Armitage, 
breaking  the  pause. 

"  At  Seward  his  wife  failed  him.  But  he  rented  a  snug 
cottage  of  some  people  going  out  to  the  States  and  had 
the  good  fortune  to  find  a  motherly  woman,  who  knew 
something  about  nursing,  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Barbour.  It 
was  Christmas  when  her  father  arrived  from  Virginia  to 
help  her  home,  and  it  was  spring  before  she  was  able  to, 
make  the  sea  voyage  as  far  as  Seattle." 

"  Expenses,  in  those  new,  frontier  towns,  are  so  impos- 
sible ;  I  hope  her  father  was  able  " —  she  halted,  then  added 
hurriedly,  flushing  under  Tisdale's  searching  eyes,  "  but, 
of  course,  in  any  case,  he  reimbursed  Mr.  Weatherbee." 

"  He  did,  you  may  be  sure,  if  there  was  any  need.  But 
you  have  forgotten  that  poke  of  Barbour's.  There  was 
dust  enough  to  have  carried  her  through  even  an  Alaska 
winter ;  but  an  old  Nevada  miner,  on  the  strength  of  that 
showing,  paid  her  twenty  thousand  dollars  outright  for 
her  interest  in  the  claim." 

Miss  Armitage  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  And  David 
Weatherbee,  too  ?  He  sold  his  share  —  did  he  not  —  and 
stayed  on  at  Seward.''  " 

"  Yes,  he  wasted  the  best  weeks  of  the  season  in  Seward, 
waiting  for  his  wife.  But  she  never  came.  She  wrote 
she  had  changed  her  mind.  He  showed  me  that  letter  one 
night  at  the  close  of  the  season  when  he  stopped  at  my 
camp  on  his  way  back  to  the  Tanana.     It  was  short  but 


116      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

long  enough  to  remind  him  there  were  accounts  pressing; 
one  particularly  that  she  called  a  '  debt  of  honor.'  She 
hadn't  specified,  but  I  guessed  directly  she  had  been  ac- 
cepting loans  from  her  friends,  and  I  saw  it  was  that  that 
had  worried  him.  To  raise  the  necessary  money,  he  had 
been  obliged  to  realize  on  the  new  placer.  His  partner 
had  been  waiting  to  go  in  to  the  claim  with  him,  and 
Weatherbee's  sudden  offer  to  sell  made  the  mining  man 
suspicious.  He  refused  to  buy  at  any  price.  Then  David 
found  an  old  prospector  whom  he  had  once  befriended  and 
made  a  deal  with  him.  It  was  five  hundred  dollars  down, 
and  two  thousand  out  of  the  first  year's  clean-up.  And 
he  sent  all  of  the  ready  money  to  her  and  started  in  to 
make  a  new  stake  below  Discovery.  But  the  inevitable 
stampede  had  followed  on  the  Nevada  man's  heels,  and  the 
strike  turned  out  small. 

"  It  was  one  of  those  rich  pockets  we  find  sometimes 
along  a  glacier  that  make  fortunes  for  the  first  men,  while 
the  rank  and  file  pan  out  defeat  and  disappointment. 
There  was  the  quartz  body  above,  stringers  and  veins  of  it 
reaching  through  the  graywackes  and  slate,  but  to  handle 
it  Weatherbee  must  set  up  a  stamp-mill ;  and  only  a  line  of 
pack-mules  from  the  Andes,  and  another  line  of  steam- 
ships could  transport  the  ore  to  the  nearest  smelter,  on 
Puget  Sound.  So  —  he  took  up  the  long  trek  northward 
again,  to  the  Tanana.     Think  of  it !     The  irony  of  it !  " 

Tisdale  rose  and  turned  on  the  step  to  look  down  at 
her.  The  light  from  the  lantern  intensified  the  furrows 
between  his  brooding  eyes.  "  And  think  what  it  meant  to 
Weatherbee  to  have  seen,  as  he  had,  day  after  day,  hour 
after  hour,  the  heart  of  another  man's  wife  laid  bare,  while 
to  his  own  he  himself  was  simply  a  source  of  revenue." 

Miss  Armitage  too  rose  and  stood  meeting  his  loot. 
Her  lip  trembled  a  little,  but  the  blue  lights  flamed  in  her 
eyes.     "  You  believe  that,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  dropped 


THE  BRAVEST  WOMAN  117 

into  an  unexpected  note.  "  You  believe  he  threw  away 
that  rich  discovery  for  the  few  hundreds  of  dollars  he  sent 
his  wife ;  but  I  know  —  she  was  told  —  differently.  She 
thought  he  was  glad  to  —  escape  —  at  so  small  a  price. 
He  wrote  he  was  glad  she  had  reconsidered  that  trip; 
Alaska  was  no  place  for  her." 

"  Madam,"  Tisdale  remonstrated  softly,  "  you  couldn't 
judge  David  Weatherbee  literally  by  his  letters.  If  you 
had  ever  felt  his  personality,  you  would  have  caught  the 
undercurrent,  deep  and  strong,  sweeping  between  the  lines. 
It  wasn't  himself  that  counted;  it  was  what  was  best  for 
her.  You  couldn't  estimate  him  by  other  men ;  he  stood, 
like  your  white  mountain,  alone  above  the  crowd.  And  he 
set  a  pedestal  higher  than  himself  and  raised  his  wife  there 
to  worship  and  glorify.  A  word  from  her  at  any  time 
would  have  turned  the  balance  and  brought  him  home ;  her 
presence,  her  sympathy,  even  that  last  season  at  the 
Aurora  mine,  would  have  brought  him  through.  I  wish 
you  had  seen  his  face  that  day  I  met  him  below  the  glacier 
and  had  told  him  about  the  woman  waiting  down  the  gorge. 
'  My  God,  Tisdale,'  he  said,  '  suppose  it  had  been  my 
wife.' " 

Miss  Armitage  stood  another  moment,  locking  her  hands 
one  over  the  other  in  a  tightening  grip.  Her  lip  trembled 
again,  but  the  words  failed.  She  turned  and  walked  un- 
certainly the  few  steps  to  the  end  of  the  porch. 

"  You  believe  she  might  have  influenced  him,  but  I  do 
not.  Oh,  I  see,  I  see,  how  you  have  measured  him  by  your 
own  great  heart.  But  " —  she  turned  towards  him  and 
went  on  slowly,  her  voice  fluctuating  in  little,  steadying 
pauses  — ^"  even  if  you  were  right,  you  might  be  generous  ; 
you  might  try  to  imagine  her  side.  Suppose  she  had  not 
guessed  his  —  need  —  of  her ;  been  able  to  read,  as  you 
did,  between  the  lines.  Sometimes  a  woman  waits  to  be 
told.     A  proud  woman  does."     She  came  back  the  few 


118      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

3teps.  "  Beatriz  Weatherbee  isn't  the  kind  of  woman  you 
think  she  is.  She  has  faults,  of  course,  but  she  has  tried 
to  make  the  best  of  her  life.  If  she  made  a  mistake  —  or 
thought  she  had  —  no  one  else  knew  it.  She  braved  it 
through.     She's  been  high-strung,  too." 

Tisdale  put  up  his  hand.  "  Don't  say  any  more ;  don't 
try  to  excuse  her  to  me.  It's  of  no  use.  Good  night." 
But  a  few  feet  from  the  porch  he  stopped  to  add,  less 
grimly :  "  I  should  have  said  good  morning.  You  see 
how  that  pyramid  stands  out  against  that  pale  streak  of 
horizon.  There  is  only  time  for  a  nap  before  sunrise. 
Day  is  breaking." 

She  was  silent,  but  something  in  the  intensity  of  her 
gaze,  the  unspoken  appeal  that  had  also  a  hint  of  dread, 
the  stillness  of  her  small  face,  white  in  the  uncertain  light 
when  so  lately  he  had  seen  it  sparkle  and  glow,  brought 
him  back. 

"  I've  tired  you  out,"  he  said.  "  I  shouldn't  have  told 
you  that  story.  But  this  outlook  to-night  reminded  me 
of  that  other  canyon,  and  I  thought  it  might  help  to  bridge 
over  the  time.  There's  nothing  can  tide  one  through  an 
unpleasant  situation  like  hearing  about  some  one  who 
fared  worse.  And  I  hadn't  meant  to  go  so  far  into  de- 
tails. I'm  sorry,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand,  "  but  it  was 
your  interest,  sympathy,  something  about  you,  that  drew 
me  on." 

She  did  not  answer  directly.  She  seemed  to  need  the 
moment  to  find  her  voice  and  bring  it  under  control. 
Then,  "  Any  one  must  have  been  interested,"  she  said,  and 
drew  away  her  hand.  "  You  have  the  story-teller's  gift. 
And  I  want  to  thank  you  for  making  it  all  so  clear  to  me ; 
it  was  a  revelation." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    DUNES    OF    THE    COLUMBIA 

BEHIND  them,  as  Tisdale  drove  down,  the  heights  they 
had  crossed  were  still  shrouded  in  thunder-caps,  but 
before  them  the  end  of  the  Wenatchee  range  lifted  clear- 
cut,  in  a  mighty  promontory,  from  the  face  of  the  desert. 
Already  the  morning  sun  gave  a  promise  of  heat,  and  as 
the  bays  rounded  a  knoll,  Miss  Armitage  raised  her  hands 
to  shade  her  eyes. 

"  What  color !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How  barbarous ! 
How  ages  old!  But  don't  say  this  is  the  Columbia,  Mr. 
Tisdale.  I  know  it  is  the  Nile.  Those  are  the  ruins  of 
Thebes.  In  a  moment  we  shall  see  the  rest  of  the  pyra- 
mids and  the  Sphinx." 

Tisdale  brought  the  horses  around  a  sand-pit  in  the  road 
which  began  to  parallel  the  river,  rolling  wide  and  swift 
and  intensely  blue,  where  the  rapids  ceased,  then  he 
glanced  at  the  other  shore,  where  fantastic  columns  and 
broken  walls  of  granite  rose  like  a  ruined  city  through  a 
red  glory. 

"  It  is  worth  coming  from  New  York  to  see,  but  you 
have  traveled  abroad.  Do  you  know,  that  disappoints  me. 
A  true  American  should  see  America  first." 

"Then  I  confess."  The  girl  laughed  softly.  "I 
haven't  been  nearer  the  Nile  than  a  lantern-slide  lecture 
and  the  moving-picture  show.  But  my  father  knew  Egypt 
when  he  was  a  boy;  maybe  I've  inherited  some  memories, 
too." 


120      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Her  enthusiasm  was  irresistible.  Looking  into  her  glow- 
ing face,  the  mirth-provoking  lines  broke  and  re-formed  at 
the  comers  of  his  own  mouth  and  eyes. 

"  But,"  he  explained  after  a  moment,  "  this  desert  of 
the  Columbia  is  not  old ;  it's  tremendously  new ;  so  new  that 
Nature  hasn't  had  time  to  take  the  scaffolding  away.  You 
know  —  do  you  not  —  this  was  all  once  a  great  inland 
sea.?  Countless  glacial  streams  brought  wash  down  from 
the  mountains,  filling  the  shallows  with  the  finest  alluvial 
earth.  Then,  in  some  big  upheaval,  one  or  perhaps  sev- 
eral of  these  volcanic  peaks  poured  down  a  strata  of  lava 
and  ash.  As  the  ice  tongues  receded,  the  streams  gradu- 
ally dried ;  only  the  larger  ones,  fed  far  back  in  the  range, 
are  left  to-day." 

"  How  interesting ! "  Her  glance  swept  upward  and 
backward  along  the  heights  and  returned  to  the  levels. 
"  And  naturally,  as  the  bed  of  the  sea  was  laid  bare,  these 
last  streams  found  the  lowest  depression,  the  channel  of 
the  Columbia." 

Her  quickness,  her  evident  desire  to  grasp  the  great 
scheme  of  things,  which  other  women  received  with  poorly 
veiled  indifference,  often  hurried  to  evade,  warmed  his 
scientist  soul.  "  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  Nature  remem- 
bered, while  she  was  busy,  to  construct  the  main  flume. 
She  might  as  well  have  said,  when  it  was  finished :  '  Here 
are  some  garden  tracts  I  reclaimed  for  you.  Now  get  to 
work ;  show  what  you  can  do.' " 

"  And  are  you  going  to  ?  "  Her  voice  caught  a  little ; 
she  watched  his  face  covertly  yet  expectantly,  her  breath 
arrested,  with  parted  lips. 

"  Perhaps.  I  am  on  my  way  to  find  a  certain  garden 
spot  that  belonged  to  David  Weatherbee.  He  knew  more 
about  reclamation  than  I,  for  he  grew  up  among  your  Cali- 
fornia orchards,  but  I  have  the  plans  he  drew ;  I  ought  to 
be  able  to  see  his  project  through." 


THE  DUNES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     121 

"  You  mean  you  may  buy  the  land,  Mr.  Tisdale,  if  — • 
things  —  are  as  you  expect  ?  " 

"  Yes,  provided  I  have  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  price." 
"  What  do  you  consider  the  tract  is  worth .?  " 
''  I  couldn't  make  a  fair  estimate  before  I  have  been 
over  the  ground.  Seattle  promoters  are  listing  Wenatchee 
fruit  lands  now,  but  the  Weatherbee  tract  is  off  the  main 
valley.  Still,  the  railroad  passes  within  a  few  miles,  and 
the  property  must  have  made  some  advance  since  he  bought 
the  quarter  section.  That  was  over  nine  years  ago.  He 
was  a  student  at  Stanford  then  and  spent  a  summer  vaca- 
tion up  here  in  the  Cascades  with  a  party  of  engineers  who 
were  running  surveys  for  the  Great  Northern.  One  day 
he  was  riding  along  a  high  ridge  at  the  top  of  one  of 
those  arid  gulfs,  when  he  came  to  a  bubbling  spring.  It 
was  so  cool  and  pleasant  up  there  above  the  desert  heat 
that  he  set  up  a  little  camp  of  his  own  in  the  shade  of  some 
pine  trees  that  rimmed  the  pool,  and  the  rest  of  the  season 
he  rode  to  and  from  his  work.  Then  he  began  to  see  the 
possibilities  of  that  alluvial  pocket  under  irrigation,  and 
before  he  went  back  to  college  he  secured  the  quarter  sec- 
tion. That  was  his  final  year,  and  he  expected  to  return 
the  next  summer  and  open  the  project.  But  his  whole  fu- 
ture was  changed  by  that  unfortunate  marriage.  His 
wife  was  not  the  kind  of  woman  to  follow  him  into  the 
desert  and  share  inevitable  discomfort  and  hardship  until 
his  scheme  should  mature.  He  began  to  plan  a  little  Eden 
for  her  at  the  core,  and  to  secure  more  capital  he  went  to 
Alaska.  He  hoped  to  make  a  rich  strike  and  come  back 
in  a  year  or  two  with  plenty  of  money  to  hurry  the  project 
through.  You  know  how  near  he  came  to  it  once,  and  why 
he  failed.  And  that  was  not  the  only  time.  But  every 
year  he  stayed  in  the  north,  his  scheme  took  a  stronger 
hold  on  him.  He  used  to  spend  long  Arctic  nights  elabo- 
rating, making  over  his  plans.     He  thought  and  brooded 


122       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

on  them  so  much  that  finally,  when  the  end  came,  up  there 
in  the  Chugach  snows,  he  set  up  an  orchard  of  spruce 
twigs  — " 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  Miss  Armitage. 
"  Please  don't  tell  it  over  again.  I  —  can't  —  bear  it." 
And  she  sank  against  the  back  of  the  seat,  shuddering, 
and  cover'ed  her  eyes  with  her  hands. 

Tisdale  looked  at  her,  puzzled.  "  Again.? "  he  re- 
peated. "  But  I  see  you  must  have  heard  the  story 
through  Mr.  Feversham.  I  told  it  at  the  clubhouse  the 
night  he  was  in  Seattle." 

"  It's  impossible  to  explain ;  you  never  could  under- 
stand." She  sat  erect,  but  Tisdale  felt  her  body  tremble, 
and  she  went  on  swiftly,  with  little  breaks  and  catches: 
"  You  don't  know  the  hold  your  story  has  on  me.  I've 
dreamed  it  all  over  at  night;  I've  wakened  cold  and  wet 
with  perspiration  from  head  to  foot,  as  though  I  —  too  — 
were  struggling  through  those  frozen  solitudes.  I've  been 
afraid  to  sleep  sometimes,  the  dread  of  facing  —  it  —  is  so 
strong." 

Watching  her,  a  sudden  tenderness  rose  through  the 
wonder  in  Tisdale's  face. 

"  So  you  dreamed  you  were  fighting  it  through  with  me ; 
that's  strange.  But  I  see  the  story  was  too  hard  for  you ; 
Feversham  shouldn't  have  told  it."  He  paused  and  his 
brows  clouded.  "  I  wish  I  could  make  Weatherbee's  wife 
dream  it,"  he  broke  out.  "  It  might  teach  her  what  he  en- 
dured. I  have  gone  over  the  ground  with  her  in  imagina- 
tion, mile  after  mile,  that  long  trek  from  Nome.  I  have 
seen  her  done  for,  whimpering  in  a  comer,  like  the  weakest 
husky  in  the  team,  there  at  the  Aurora  mine,  and  at  her 
limit  again  up  in  Rainy  Pass.  And  once  lately,  the  night 
of  the  club  supper,  while  I  was  lying  awake  in  my  room, 
looking  off  through  the  window  to  the  harbor  lights  and 
the  stars,  I  heard  her  crying  deeply  from  the  heart.     She 


THE  DUNES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     123 

did  not  seem  like  herself  then,  but  a  different  woman  I  was 
mighty  sorry  for." 

Miss  Armitage  turned  and  met  his  look,  questioning, 
hardly  comprehending.     "  That  sounds  occult,"  she  said. 

"Does  it.f^  Well,  perhaps  it  is.  But  a  man  who  has 
lived  in  the  big  spaces  has  his  senses  sharpened.  He  sees 
farther;  feels  more." 

There  was  a  silent  moment.  The  colts,  topping  a  low 
dune,  felt  the  pressure  of  the  fills  on  the  down-grade,  and 
the  nigh  horse  broke,  turning  the  front  wheel  into  a  tangle 
of  sage.  "  Mr.  Tisdale,"  she  cried  a  little  tremulously, 
"  do  you  think  this  is  a  catboat,  tacking  into  a  squall? 
Please,  please  let  me  drive." 

Her  eflPort  was  supreme.  It  relieved  the  tension,  and 
when  the  change  was  made,  she  drew  to  the  edge  of  the 
seat,  holding  her  head  high  like  that  intrepid  flower  to 
which  he  had  compared  her. 

"  You  mean,"  she  said  evenly,  "  the  terrible  silence  of 
your  big  spaces  keys  up  the  subjective  mind.  That,  of 
course,  was  the  trouble  with  Mrs.  Barbour's  husband.  He 
allowed  it  to  dominate  him.  But  a  man  like  you  " —  and 
she  gave  him  her  swift,  direct  look,  and  the  shadow  of  a 
smile  touched  her  mouth  — "  well-balanced,  strong,  would 
have  kept  the  danger  down.  I  should  never  be  afraid  — 
for  you.  But,"  she  hurried  on,  "  I  can  understand  too 
how  in  the  great  solitudes  some  men  are  drawn  together. 
You  have  shown  me.  I  did  not  know  before  I  heard  your 
story  how  much  a  man  can  endure  for  a  friend  —  and 
sacrifice." 

Tisdale  looked  off  over  the  desert.  "  Friendship  up 
there  does  mean  something,"  he  answered  quietly.  "  Mere 
companionship  in  the  Alaska  wilderness  is  a  test.  I  don't 
know  whether  it's  the  darkness  of  those  interminable  win- 
ters, or  the  monotony  that  plays  on  a  man's  nerves,  but 
I  have  seen  the  closest  partners  get  beyond  speaking  to 


124      ,THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

each  other.  It's  a  hfe  to  bring  out  the  good  and  the  bad 
in  a  man ;  a  life  to  make  men  hate ;  and  it  can  forge  two 
men  together.  But  David  Weatherbee  never  had  an 
enemy.  He  never  failed  a  man.  In  a  crisis  he  was  great. 
If  things  had  been  reversed  " —  he  set  his  lips,  his  face 
hardened  — "  if  Weatherbee  had  been  in  my  place,  there 
at  Nome,  with  a  letter  of  mine  in  his  hands,  he  wouldn't 
have  thrown  away  those  four  days." 

"  Yes,  he  would.  Consider.  He  must  have  taken  time 
to  prepare  for  that  terrible  journey.  How  else  could  he 
have  carried  it  through?  "  She  leaned  forward  a  little, 
compelling  his  glance,  trying  to  reason  down  the  tragedy 
in  his  face. 

"  How  can  you  blame  yourself?  "  she  finished  brokenly. 
"  You  must  not.     I  will  not  —  let  you." 

"  Thank  you  for  saying  that."  Tisdale's  rugged  fea- 
tures worked.  He  laid  his  hand  for  an  instant  over  hers. 
"  If  any  one  in  the  world  can  set  me  right  with  myself, 
it  is  you." 

After  that  they  both  were  silent.  They  began  to  round 
the  bold  promontory  at  the  end  of  the  Wenatchee  range ; 
the  Badger  loomed  on  the  rim  of  the  desert,  then  Old 
Baldy  seemed  to  swing  his  sheer  front  like  an  opened 
portal  to  let  the  blue  flood  of  the  Columbia  through.  The 
interest  crept  back  to  her  face.  Between  them  and  those 
guardian  peaks  a  steel  bridge,  fine  as  a  spider  web,  was 
etched  on  the  river,  then  a  first  orchard  broke  the  areas  of 
sage,  the  rows  of  young  trees  radiating  from  a  small,  new 
dwelling,  like  a  geometrical  pattern.  Finally  she  said: 
"  I  would  like  to  know  a  little  more  about  Mrs.  Barbour. 
Did  you  ever  see  her  again,  Mr.  Tisdale?  Or  the  child?  " 
"  Oh,  yes.  I  made  it  a  point  the  next  winter,  when  I 
was  in  Washington,  to  run  down  into  Virginia  and  look 
them  up.  And  I  have  always  kept  in  touch  with  them. 
She  sends  me  new  pictures  of  the  boy  every  year.     He 


THE  DUNES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     125 

keeps  her  busy.  He  was  a  rugged  little  chap  at  the  start, 
did  his  best  to  grow,  and  bright !  " —  Tisdale  paused, 
shaking  his  head,  while  the  humorous  lines  deepened  — 
"  But  he  had  to  be  vigorous  to  carry  the  name  she  gave 
him.  Did  I  tell  you  it  was  Weatherbee  Tisdale.?  Think 
of  shouldering  the  names  of  two  full-sized  men  on  that 
atom.     But  she  picked  a  nice  diminutive  out  of  it  — '  Bee.' 

"  It  was  a  great  christening  party,"  he  went  on  reminis- 
cently.  "  She  arranged  it  when  she  passed  through 
Seattle  and  had  several  hours  to  wait  for  her  train.  The 
ceremony  was  at  Trinity,  that  stone  church  on  the  first 
hill,  and  the  Bishop  of  Alaska,  who  was  waiting  too,  of- 
ficiated. I  was  in  town  at  the  time,  getting  my  outfit  to- 
gether for  another  season  in  the  north,  but  Weatherbee 
had  to  assume  his  responsibilities  by  proxy." 

"  Do  j'^ou  mean  David  Weatherbee  was  the  child's  god- 
father.? " 

"  One  of  them,  yes."  Tisdale  paused,  and  his  brows 
clouded.  "  I  wish  the  boy  had  been  his  own.  That 
would  have  been  his  salvation.  If  David  Weatherbee  had 
had  a  son,  he  would  be  here  with  us  now,  to-day." 

Miss  Armitage  was  silent.  She  looked  off  up  the  un- 
folding watercourse,  and  the  great  weariness  Tisdale  had 
noticed  that  hour  before  dawn  settled  again  on  her  face. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  reins.  *'  You  are  tired  out," 
he  said.  "  Come,  give  the  lines  to  me.  You've  deceived 
me  with  all  that  fine  show  of  spirits,  but  I've  been  selfish, 
or  I  must  have  seen.  The  truth  is,  I've  been  humoring 
this  hand." 

"  You  mean,"  she  said  quickly,  "  this  vixen  did  hurt  you 
yesterday  more  than  you  would  admit.?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  but  the  friction  of  the  reins  can  make  even  a 
scratch  uncomfortable  after  a  while,  and  my  glove  is  get- 
ting tight.  A  little  peroxide,  when  we  reach  a  pharmacy, 
will  fix  it  all  right." 


126      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

But  Miss  Armitage  watched  him  doubtfully.  She  as- 
sured him  she  was  not  tired  and  that  she  loved  to  drive. 
Had  she  not  told  him  so  at  the  start?  Then,  as  they 
left  the  promontory,  her  glance  followed  the  road  ahead. 
The  bridge  was  no  longer  fine  as  a  spider  web;  it  was  a 
railroad  crossing  of  steel,  and  the  long  eaves  of  the  Great 
Northern  depot  lifted  near,  flanked  by  the  business  blocks 
of  a  town.  "  Wenatchee !  "  she  exclaimed ;  and  wavering, 
asked :     "  IsnH  this  Wenatchee  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Armitage,  I  am  afraid  that  it  is.  You  are 
back  to  civilization.  A  few  minutes  more  and,  if  you 
will  give  me  their  address,  you  will  be  safe  with  your 
friends." 

"  I  did  not  say  I  had  any  friends  in  Wenatcnee,  Mr. 
Tisdale.  I  am  going  on  to  Hesperides  Vale.  But  please 
leave  me  at  any  quiet  hotel.  I  can't  thank  you  enough 
for  all  your  kindness  and  patience,"  she  went  on  hur- 
riedly. "  For  making  this  trip  possible.  All  I  can  hope 
to  do  is  share  the  expense."  And  she  found  the  inside 
pocket  of  her  coat  and  drew  out  a  small  silver  purse. 

Tisdale,  driving  slowly,  divided  his  attention  between 
his  team  and  the  buildings  on  either  side.  "  There  is  a 
public  garage,"  he  said,  "  and  a  rival  establishment  oppo- 
site. You  will  have  no  trouble  to  finish  your  trip  by  auto- 
mobile, as  you  planned.  It  will  be  pleasant  making  the 
run  up  the  valley  this  evening,  when  it  is  cool." 

Miss  Armitage  opened  her  purse.  "  The  rates  must  be 
considerably  higher  on  a  rough  mountain  road  than  on 
the  Seattle  boulevard,  and,  of  course,  one  couldn't  expect 
to  hire  Nip  and  Tuck  at  ordinary  rates." 

Tisdale  drew  in,  hesitating,  before  a  hotel,  then  re- 
laxed the  reins.  "  The  building  seems  modern,  but  we 
may  find  a  quiet  little  inn  up  some  side  street  with  more 
shade." 

"  I  presume  you  will  drive  on  up  the  valley,"  she  said. 


THE  DUNES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     127 

after  a  moment,  "  and  start  back  to  Kittitas  to-morrow. 
Or  will  it  be  necessary  to  rest  the  team  a  day?  " 

"  I  shall  drive  on  to  that  tract  of  Weatherbee's  this 
afternoon;  but  I  expect  to  take  the  westbound  train  to- 
night, somewhere  up  the  valley." 

"  I  see,"  she  said  quickly  and  tried  to  cover  her  dis- 
may, "  you  intend  to  ship  the  team  back  to  Kittitas  by 
way  of  Seattle.  I'm  afraid  " —  her  voice  broke  a  little, 
the  color  flushed  pinkly  to  her  forehead,  her  ears,  and  her 
glance  fell  to  the  purse  in  her  lap  — "  but  please  tell  me 
the  charges." 

"  Madam,"  and  the  ready  humor  crinkled  the  comers 
of  his  mouth,  "  when  I  ship  these  horses  back  to  Lighter, 
he  is  going  to  pay  the  freight." 

She  drew  a  quick  breath  of  relief,  but  her  purse  re- 
mained open,  and  she  waited,  regarding  Tisdale  with  an 
expectant,  disconcerting  side-glance  of  her  half-veiled 
eyes.  "  And  the  day  rates  for  the  use  of  the  team?  "  she 
asked. 

For  a  moment  he  was  busy  turning  the  horses.  They 
had  reached  a  second  hotel,  but  it  proved  less  inviting 
than  the  first,  and  the  side  streets  they  had  crossed  af- 
forded no  quiet  inn,  or  indeed  any  dwelling  in  the  shade. 
"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  a  room  and  bath  on  the  north  side, 
with  windows  looking  up  the  Columbia,  should  make  you 
fairly  comfortable  through  the  heat  of  the  day."  But 
the  girl  waited,  and  when  his  eyes  fell  to  that  open  purse, 
his  own  color  burned  through  the  tan.  There  was  no  help 
for  it;  she  must  know  the  truth.  He  squared  his  shoul- 
ders, turning  a  little  toward  her.  ''  There  are  no  ex- 
penses to  share.  Miss  Armitage.  I  —  happened  to  own 
this  team,  and  since  we  were  traveling  the  same  way,  I  was 
glad  to  offer  you  this  vacant  seat." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  bought  these  horses  —  outright  — • 
at  Kittitas?" 


128       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Yes,  the  opportunity  was  too  good  to  miss."  He  tried 
to  brave  the  astonishment  in  her  eyes,  but  his  glance 
moved  directly  to  the  colts.  "  And,  you  see,  if  I  should 
buy  that  tract  of  Weatherbee's,  I  am  going  to  need  a 
team." 

"  Doubtless,"  answered  Miss  Armitage  slowly.  "  Still, 
for  breaking  wild  land  or  even  cultivating,  one  would 
choose  a  steadier,  heavier  team.  But  they  are  beauties, 
Mr.  Tisdale,  and  I  know  a  man  in  Seattle  who  is  going  to 
be  disappointed.  I  congratulate  you  on  being  able  to  se- 
cure them."  She  closed  the  purse  at  last  and  reluctantly 
put  it  away,  and  she  added,  with  the  merriment  dimpling 
her  lips :     "  Fate  certainly  was  with  me  yesterday." 

They  had  reached  the  hotel,  and  as  he  drew  up  to  the 
curb,  a  man  came  from  the  lobby  to  hold  the  bays.  Sev- 
eral traveling  salesmen  stood  smoking  and  talking  outside 
the  entrance,  while  a  little  apart  a  land  promoter  and  his 
possible  capitalist  consulted  a  blue  print ;  but  there  was  a 
general  pause  as  Tisdale  sprang  out,  and  the  curious 
scrutiny  of  wayfarers  in  a  small  town  was  focussed  on  the 
arrivals. 

"  It  looks  all  right,"  he  said  quietly,  helping  her  down, 
"  but  if  you  find  anything  wrong,  or  should  happen  to 
want  me,  I  shall  be  at  that  other  hotel  until  two  o'clock. 
Good-by!" 

He  saw  the  surprise  in  her  face  change  to  swift  appreci- 
ation. Then  "  Good-by,"  she  answered  and  walked  to- 
wards the  door.  -But  there  she  stopped.  Tisdale,  look- 
ing back  as  he  gave  her  suitcase  to  a  boy,  saw  her  lips 
part,  though  she  did  not  speak.  Then  her  eyelids 
drooped,  the  color  played  softly  in  her  face,  and  she 
turned  to  go  in.  There  had  been  no  invitation  in  her  at- 
titude, yet  he  had  felt  a  certain  appeal.  It  flashed  over 
him  she  did  not  want  to  motor  up  the  valley ;  she  wished  to 
drive  on  with  him.     Too  proud,  too  fine  to  say  so,  she  was 


THE  DUNES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA     129 

letting  her  opportunity  go.     He  hurried  across  the  pave- 
ment. 

"  Miss  Armitage,"  he  said,  and  instantly  she  turned ; 
the  sparkles  leaped  in  her  eyes;  she  came  towards  him  a 
few  steps  and  stopped  expectantly.  "  If  I  start  up  the 
valley  at  two  " —  and  he  looked  at  his  watch  — "  that  will 
be  a  rest  of  nearly  three  hours.  It  means  the  heat  of  the 
day,  but  if  it  seems  better  than  motoring  over  a  country 
road  with  a  public  chauffeur,  I  would  be  glad  to  have  you 
drive  for  me." 


CHAPTER  X 


'  'XTOW  I  know  the  meaning  of  Wenatchee.     It's  some- 
-i-^    thing  racy,  Mr.  Tisdale,  and  a  little  wicked,  yet 
with  unexpected  depths,  and  just  the  coolest,  limpid  hazel- 
green." 

Tisdale's  pulses  quickened;  his  blood  responded  to  her 
exhilaration.  "  Yes,  only  " —  and  he  waited  to  catch  the 
glance  she  lifted  from  the  stream  — "  your  green  is  blue, 
and  you  forgot  to  count  the  sparkles  in." 

As  he  spoke,  the  bays  paced  off  the  bridge.  They 
sprang,  gathering  themselves  lightly  for  a  sharp  ascent 
and  for  an  interval  held  the  driver's  close  attention.  The 
town  and  the  Columbia  were  behind,  and  the  road,  which 
followed  the  contour  of  the  slopes  rising  abruptly  from  the 
Wenatchee,  began  a  series  of  sudden  turns ;  it  cut  shelf- 
wise  high  across  the  face  of  a  ridge;  spurs  constantly 
closed  after  them ;  there  seemed  no  way  back  or  through, 
then,  like  an  opening  gate,  a  bluff  detached  from  the  wall 
ahead,  and  they  entered  another  breadth  of  valley.  In 
the  wide  levels  that  bordered  the  river,  young  orchards 
began  to  supplant  the  sage.  Looking  down  from  the 
thoroughfare,  the  even  rows  and  squares  seemed  wrought 
on  the  tawny  background  like  the  designs  of  a  great  car- 
pet. Sometimes,  paralleling  the  road,  the  new  High  Line 
canal  followed  an  upper  cut ;  it  trestled  a  ravine  or,  stopped 
by  a  rocky  cliff,  bored  through.  Where  a  finished  spill- 
way irrigated  a  mountainside,  all  the  steep  incline  be- 
tween the  runnels  showed  lines  on  lines  of  diminutive  trees, 
pluckily  taking  root-hold. 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART-STRINGS     131 

A  little  after  that,  near  an  old  mission,  they  dropped  to 
a  lower  bench  and  passed  an  apple  orchard  in  full  bear- 
ing. Everywhere  boughs  laden  with  a  gold  or  crimson 
harvest  were  supported  by  a  network  of  scaffolding.  It 
was  marvelous  that  fruit  could  so  crowd  and  cling  to  a 
slender  stem  and  yet  round  and  color  to  such  perfection. 
Miss  Armitage  slowed  the  horses  down  and  looked  up  the 
shady  avenues.  Presently  a  driveway  divided  the  tract, 
leading  to  a  dwelling  so  small  it  had  the  appearance  of  a 
toy  house;  but  on  the  gatepost  above  the  rural  delivery 
box  the  name  of  the  owner  shone  ostentatiously.  It  was 
"  Henderson  Bailey,  Hesperides  Vale." 

"Do  you  see.?"  she  asked.  "This  is  that  station 
master's  orchard,  where  the  Rome  Beauty  grew." 

But  the  team  was  troublesome  again.  The  road  made  a 
turn,  rounding  the  orchard,  and  began  the  descent  to  a 
bridge.  On  the  right  a  great  water-wheel,  supplied  with 
huge,  scoop-shaped  buckets,  was  lifting  water  from  the 
river  to  distribute  it  over  a  reclaimed  section.  The  bays 
pranced  toward  it  suspiciously.  "  Now,  now.  Tuck,"  she 
admonished,  "  be  a  soldier."  The  colt  sidled  gingerly. 
"  Whoa,  Nip,  whoa ! "  and,  rearing  lightly,  they  took  the 
approach  with  a  rush. 

As  they  quieted  and  trotted  evenly  off  the  bridge,  a 
large  and  brilliant  signboard  set  in  an  area  of  sage-brush 
challenged  the  eye.     Miss  Armitage  fluted  a  laugh. 

"  Buy  one  of  these  Choice  Lots," 

she  read,  with  charming,  slightly  mocking  exaggeration. 

"  Buy  to-day. 

"  To-morrow  will  see  this  Property  the  Heart  of  a  City. 
"  Buy  before  the  Prices  Soar. 
"  Talk  with  Henderson  Bailey. 


132       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  This  surely  is  Hesperides  Vale,"  she  added. 

The  amusement  went  out  of  Tisdale's  face.  "  Yes, 
madam,  and  your  j  oumey's  end.  Probably  the  next  post- 
box  will  announce  the  name  of  your  friends." 

She  did  not  answer  directly.  She  looked  beyond  the 
heads  of  the  team  to  the  top  of  the  valley,  where  two 
brown  slopes  parted  like  drawn  curtains  and  opened  a  blue 
vista  of  canyon  closed  by  a  lofty  snow-peak.  The  sun 
had  more  than  fulfilled  its  morning  promise  of  heat,  but  a 
soft  breeze  began  to  pull  from  that  white  summit  down  the 
watercourse. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  I  had  friends  in  Hesperides  Vale," 
she  said  at  last.  Her  eyes  continued  to  search  the  far 
blue  canyon,  but  her  color  heightened  at  his  quick  glance 
of  surprise,  and  she  went  on  with  a  kind  of  breathless- 
ness. 

"I  —  I  have  a  confession  to  make.  I  —  But  hasn't  it 
occurred  to  you,  Mr.  Tisdale,  that  I  might  be  interested  in 
this  land  you  are  on  your  way  to  see  ?  " 

His  glance  changed.  It  settled  into  his  clear,  calculat- 
ing look  of  appraisal.  Under  it  her  color  flamed ;  she 
turned  her  face  farther  away.  "  No,"  he  answered 
slowly,  "  No,  that  had  not  occurred  to  me." 

"  I  should  have  told  you  at  the  beginning,  but  I  thought, 
at  first,  you  knew.  Afterward  —  but  I  am  going  to  ex- 
plain now,"  and  she  turned  resolutely,  smiling  a  little  to 
brave  that  look.  "  Mr.  Morganstein  had  promised,  when 
he  planned  the  trip  to  Portland,  that  he  would  run  over 
from  Ellensburg  to  look  the  property  up.  He  believed  it 
might  be  feasible  to  plat  it  into  five-acre  tracts  to  put  on 
the  market.  Of  course  we  knew  nothing  of  the  difficulties 
of  the  road;  we  had  heard  it  was  an  old  stage  route,  and 
we  expected  to  motor  through  and  return  the  same  day. 
So,  when  the  accident  happened  to  the  car  in  Snoqualmie 
Pass,  and  the  others  were  taking  the  Milwaukee  train  home, 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART-STRINGS     133 

I  decided,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  to  finish  this  side 
trip  to  Wenatchee  and  return  to  Seattle  by  the  Great  Nor- 
thern. I  admit  seeing  you  on  the  eastbound  influenced 
me.  We  —  Mrs.  Feversham  —  guessed  you  were  on  your 
way  to  see  this  land,  and  when  the  porter  was  uncertain  of 
the  stage  from  Ellensburg,  but  that  you  were  leaving  the 
trail  below  Kittitas,  I  thought  you  had  found  a  newer, 
quicker  way.     So  —  I  followed  you." 

Tisdale's  brows  relaxed.  He  laughed  a  little  softly, 
trying  to  ease  her  evident  distress.  "  I  am  glad  you  did. 
Miss  Armitage.  I  am  mighty  glad  you  did.  But  I  see," 
he  went  on  slowly,  his  face  clouding  again,  "  I  see  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  had  been  talking  to  you  about  that  tract. 
It's  strange  I  hadn't  thought  of  that  possibility.  I'll 
wager  she  even  tried  to  sell  the  land  off  a  map,  in  Seattle. 
I  wonder,  though,  when  this  Weatherbee  trip  was  arranged 
to  look  the  property  over,  that  she  didn't  come,  too.  But 
no  doubt  that  seemed  too  eager." 

The  blue  lights  flashed  in  her  eyes ;  her  lip  trembled. 
"  Be  fair,"  she  said.  "  You  can  aff*ord  to  be  —  gener- 
ous." 

"  I  am  going  to  be  generous.  Miss  Armitage,  to  you." 
The  ready  humor  touched  his  mouth  again,  the  corners  of 
his  eyes.  "  I  am  going  to  take  you  over  the  ground  with 
me;  show  you  Weatherbee's  project,  his  drawn  plans. 
But  afterwards,  if  you  outbid  me  — " 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  that,"  she  interrupted 
quickly.  "I  —  you  must  know  " —  she  paused,  her  lashes 
drooped  — "  I  —  am  not  very  rich,"  she  finessed. 

Tisdale  laughed  outright.  "  Neither  am  I.  Neither 
am  I."  Then,  his  glance  studying  the  road,  he  said :  "  I 
think  we  take  that  branch.  But  wait ! "  He  drew  his 
map  from  his  pocket  and  pored  over  it  a  moment.  "  Yes, 
we  turn  there.     After  that  there  is  just  one  track." 

For  an  instant  Miss  Armitage  seemed  to  waver.     She 


134       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

sent  a  backward  look  to  the  river,  and  the  glance,  return- 
ing, swept  Tisdale;  then  she  straightened  in  her  seat  and 
swung  the  bays  into  the  branch.  It  cut  the  valley  diag- 
onally, away  from  the  Wenatchee,  past  a  last  orchard, 
into  wild  lands  that  stretched  in  level  benches  under  the 
mountain  wall.  One  tawny,  sage-mottled  slope  began  to 
detach  from  the  rest;  it  took  the  shape  of  a  reclining 
brazen  beast,  partly  leopard,  partly  wolf,  and  a  line  of 
pine  trees  that  had  taken  root  in  a  moist  strata  along 
the  backbone  had  the  effect  of  a  bristling  mane. 

"  That  is  Weatherbee's  landmark,"  said  Tisdale.  «  He 
called  it  Cerberus.  It  is  all  sketched  in  true  as  life  on  his 
plans.  The  gap  there  under  the  brute's  paw  is  the  en- 
trance to  his  vale." 

As  they  approached,  the  mountain  seemed  to  move;  it 
took  the  appearance  of  an  animal,  ready  to  spring. 
Miss  Armitage,  watching,  shivered.  The  dreadful  expec- 
tation she  had  shown  the  previous  night  when  the  cry  of 
the  cougar  came  down  the  wind,  rose  in  her  face.  It  was 
as  though  she  had  come  upon  that  beast,  more  terrifying 
than  she  had  feared,  lying  in  wait  for  her.  Then  the  mo- 
ment passed.  She  raised  her  head,  her  hands  tightened  on 
the  reins,  and  she  drove  resolutely  into  the  shadows  of  the 
awful  front.  "  Now,"  she  said,  not  quite  steadily,  "  now 
I  know  how  monstrously  alive  a  mountain  can  seem." 

Tisdale  looked  at  her.  "  You  never  could  live  in 
Alaska,"  he  said.  "  You  feel  too  much  this  personality  of 
inanimate  things.  That  was  David  Weatherbee's  trouble. 
You  know  how  in  the  end  he  thought  those  Alaska  peaks 
were  moving.     They  got  to  '  crowding '  him-." 

The  girl  turned  a  little  and  met  his  look.  Her  eyes, 
wide  with  dread,  entreated  him.  "  Yes,  I  know,"  she  said, 
and  her  voice  was  almost  a  whisper.  "  I  was  thinking  of 
him.  But  please  don't  say  any  more.  I  can't  —  bear  it 
—  here." 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART-STRINGS     135 

So  she  was  thinking  of  Weatherbee.  Her  emotion 
sprang  from  her  sympathy  for  him.  A  gentleness  that 
was  almost  tenderness  crept  over  Tisdale's  face.  How 
fine  she  was,  how  sensitively  made,  and  how  measureless  her 
capacity  for  loving,  if  she  could  feel  like  this  for  a  man  of 
whom  she  had  only  heard. 

Miss  Armitage,  squaring  her  shoulders  and  sitting  very 
erect  once  more,  her  lips  closed  in  a  straight  red  line, 
drove  firmly  on.  A  stream  ran  musically  along  the  road- 
side,—  a  stream  so  small  it  was  marvelous  it  had  a  voice. 
As  they  rounded  the  mountain,  the  gap  widened  into  the 
mouth  of  the  vale,  which  lifted  back  to  an  upper  bench, 
over-topped  by  a  lofty  plateau.  Then  she  swung  the  team 
around  and  stopped.  The  way  was  cut  off  by  a  barbed 
wire  fence. 

The  enclosure  was  apparently  a  corral  for  a  flock  of 
Angora  goats.  There  was  no  gate  for  the  passage  of 
teams ;  the  road  ended  there,  and  a  rough  sign  nailed  to  a 
hingeless  wicket  warned  the  wayfarer  to  "  Keep  Out."  On 
a  rocky  knob  near  this  entrance  a  gaunt,  hard-featured 
woman  sat  knitting.  She  measured  the  trespassers  with  a 
furtive,  smouldering  glance  and  clicked  her  needles  with 
unnecessary  force. 

Tisdale's  eyes  made  a  swift  inventory  of  the  poor 
shelter,  half  cabin,  partly  shed,  that  evidently  housed  both 
the  woman  and  her  flock,  then  searched  the  barren  field  for 
some  sort  of  hitching  post.  But  the  few  bushes  along  the 
stream  were  small,  kept  low,  doubtless,  by  the  browsing 
goats,  and  his  glance  rested  on  a  fringe  of  poplars  be- 
yond the  upper  fence. 

"  There's  no  way  around,"  he  said  at  last,  and  the 
amusement  broke  softly  in  his  face.  "  We  will  have  to  go 
through." 

"  The  wicket  will  take  the  team  singly,"  she  answered, 
"  but  we  must  unhitch  and  leave  the  buggy  here." 


136      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  And  first,  if  you  think  you  can  hold  the  colts  that 
long,  I  must  tackle  this  thistle." 

"  I  can  manage,"  she  said,  and  the  sparkles  danced  in 
her  eyes,  ''  unless  you  are  vanquished." 

The  woman  rose  and  stood  glowering  w^hile  he  sprang 
down  and  drew  the  wooden  pin  to  open  the  wicket. 
Then,  "  You  keep  off  my  land,"  she  ordered  sharply. 

"  I  will,  madam,"  he  answered  quietly,  "  as  soon  as  I  am 
satisfied  it  is  yours." 

"  I've  lived  on  this  claim  'most  five  years,"  she  screamed. 
"  I'm  homesteading,  and  when  I've  used  the  water  seven 
years,  I  get  the  rights."  She  sprang  backward  with  a 
cattish  movement  and  caught  up  a  gun  that  had  been  con- 
cealed in  some  bushes.     "  Now  you  go,"  she  said. 

But  Tisdale  stayed.  He  stood  weighing  her  with  his 
steady,  appraising  eyes,  while  he  drew  the  township  plat 
from  his  pocket. 

"  This  is  the  quarter  section  I  have  come  to  look  up. 
It  starts  here,  you  see," —  and  having  unfolded  the  map, 
he  turned  to  hold  it  under  her  glance  —  "  at  the  mouth 
of  this  gap,  and  lifts  back  through  the  pocket,  taking  in 
the  slopes  to  this  bench  and  on  up  over  this  ridge  to  in- 
clude these  springs." 

The  woman,  curbing  herself  to  look  at  the  plat,  allowed 
the  rifle  to  settle  in  the  curve  of  her  arm.  "  I  piped  the 
water  down,"  she  said.  "  This  stream  was  a  dry  gully.  I 
fenced  and  put  up  a  house." 

"  The  tract  was  commuted  and  bought  outright  from 
the  Government  over  seven  years  ago."  Tisdale's  voice 
quickened ;  he  set  his  lips  dominantly  and  folded  the  map. 
"  I  have  copies  of  the  field  notes  with  me  and  the  owner's 
landscape  plans.  And  I  am  a  surveyor,  madam.  It  won't 
take  me  long  to  find  out  whether  there  is  a  mistake.  But, 
before  I  go  over  the  ground,  I  must  get  my  horses  through 
to   a   hitching-place.     I  will  have   to   lower  that  upper 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART-STRINGS     137 

fence,  but  if  you  will  keep  jour  goats  together,  I  promise 
to  put  it  back  as  soon  as  the  team  is  through." 

"  You  let  that  fence  alone."  Tisdale  had  started  to 
cross  the  field,  and  she  followed,  railing,  though  the  gun 
still  rested  in  the  hollow  of  her  arm.  "  If  one  of  those 
goats  breaks  away,  the  whole  herd'U  go  wild.  I  can't 
round  'em  in  without  my  dog.  He's  off  trailing  one  of  the 
ewes.  She  strayed  yesterday,  and  he'll  chase  the  mountain 
through  if  he  has  to.  It's  no  use  to  whistle ;  he  won't  come 
back  without  her.  You  let  that  fence  be.  You  wouldn't 
dare  to  touch  it,"  she  finished  impotently,  "  if  I  had  a 
man." 

"Haven't  you?"  Tisdale  swung  around,  and  his 
voice  dropped  to  its  soft  undernote.  "  That's  mighty 
hard.  Who  laid  all  that  water-pipe.?  Who  built  your 
house.?  " 

"  I  did,"  she  answered  grimly.  "  The  man  who  hauled 
my  load  of  lumber  stopped  long  enough  to  help  set  the 
posts,  but  I  did  the  rest." 

"  You  did.? "  Tisdale  shook  his  head  incredulously. 
"  My !  My !  Made  all  the  necessary  improvements,  sin- 
gle-handed, to  hold  your  homestead  and  at  the  same  time 
managed  these  goats." 

The  woman's  glance  moved  to  the  shack  and  out  over 
the  barren  fields,  and  a  shade  of  uncertainty  crept  into 
her  passionate  eyes.  "  The  improvements  don't  make 
much  of  a  show  yet;  I've  had  to  be  off  so  much  in  the 
mountains,  foraging  with  the  herd.  But  I  was  able  to 
hire  a  boy  half  a  day  with  the  shearing  this  spring,  and 
from  now  on  they're  going  to  pay.  There  are  twenty- 
eight  in  the  bunch,  counting  the  kids,  and  I  started  with 
one  old  billy  and  two  ewes." 

"  My !  My !  what  a  record !  "  Tisdale  paused  to  look 
back  at  Miss  Armitage,  who  had  turned  the  bays,  allow-- 
ing   them    to   pace   down   a   length   of   road    and   back. 


138       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  But,"  he  added,  walking  on,  "  what  led  you  to  choose 
goats  instead  of  sheep?  " 

"  I  didn't  do  the  choosing  " ;  she  moved  abreast  of  Hol- 
lis,  "  it  was  a  fool  man." 

"  So,"  he  answered  softly,  with  a  glimmer  of  amuse- 
ment in  his  eyes,  "  there  is  a  man,  after  all." 

"  There  was,"  she  corrected  grimly.  "  The  easiest  fel- 
low to  be  talked  over  under  the  sun ;  the  kind  always  chas- 
ing off  after  a  new  scheme.  First  it  was  a  mineral  claim ; 
then  he  banked  the  future  on  timber,  and  when  he  got 
tired  waiting  for  stumpage  to  soar,  he  put  up  a  dinky 
sawmill  to  cut  his  own  trees.  He  was  doing  well,  for  him, 
getting  out  ties  for  a  new  railroad  —  it  was  down  in  Ore- 
gon—  when  he  saw  the  chance  to  trade  for  a  proved-up 
homestead.  But  it  was  the  limit  when  he  started  out  to 
buy  a  bunch  of  sheep  and  came  back  with  that  old  Angora 
billy  and  two  ewes." 

"  I  see."  They  were  near  the  fence,  and  Tisdale 
swerved  a  little  to  reach  a  stout  poplar  that  formed  the 
corner  post.  He  saw  that  the  wire  ends  met  there  and 
felt  in  his  pocket  for  his  knife.  "  I  see.  And  then  he 
left  the  responsibility  to  his  wife." 

"  The  wedding  hadn't  come  off,"  she  said  sharply.  "  It 
was  fixed  for  the  seventeenth  of  June,  and  that  was  only 
May.  And  I  told  him  I  couldn't  risk  it  —  not  in  the  face 
of  those  goats." 

"  And  he?  "  pressed  Hollis  gently.  This  thistle,  iso- 
lated, denied  human  intercourse,  was  more  easily  handled 
than  he  had  hoped. 

"  He  said  it  suited  him  all  right.  He  had  been  wanting 
to  go  to  Alaska.  Nothing  but  that  wedding  had  kept 
him  back." 

Tisdale  stopped  and  opened  his  knife.  "  And  he 
went?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes."     The  woman's   face  worked   a   little,   and   she 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART-STRINGS     139 

stood  looking  at  him  with  hard,  tragic  eyes.  "  He  sold 
the  homestead  for  what  he  could  get  to  raise  the  money 
to  take  him  to  Dawson.  He  was  gone  in  less  than  twenty- 
four  hours  and  before  daylight,  that  night  he  left,  I  heard 
those  goats  ma-a-ing  under  my  window.  He  had  staked 
them  there  in  the  front  yard  and  tucked  a  note,  with  his 
compliments,  in  the  door.  He  wrote  he  didn't  know  of 
anything  else  he  could  leave  thkt  would  make  me  remem- 
ber him  better." 

Tisdale  shook  his  head.  "  I  wish  I  had  been  there." 
He  slipped  the  knife  in  between  the  ends  of  the  wires  and 
the  bole,  clawing,  prying,  twisting.  "  And  you  kept 
them  ?  "  he  added. 

"  Yes,  I  don't  know  why,  unless  it  was  because  I  knew 
it  was  the  last  thing  he  expected.  But  I  hated  them  worse 
than  snakes.  I  couldn't  stand  it  having  them  around, 
and  I  hired  a  boy  to  herd  them  out  on  his  father's  farm. 
Then  I  went  on  helping  Dad,  selling  general  merchandise 
and  sorting  mail.  But  the  post-office  was  moved  that 
year  five  miles  to  the  new  railroad  station,  and  they  put 
in  a  new  man.  Of  course  that  meant  a  line  of  goods,  too, 
and  competition.  Trade  fell  off,  then  sickness  came. 
It  lasted  two  years,  and  when  Dad  was  gone,  there  wasn't 
much  left  of  the  store  but  debt."  She  paused  a  moment, 
looking  up  to  the  serene  sky  above  the  high  plateau.  A 
sudden  moisture  softened  her  burning  eyes,  and  her  free 
hand  crept  to  her  throat.  "  Dad  was  a  mighty  fine  man," 
she  said.  "  He  had  a  great  business  head.  It  wasn't  his 
fault  he  didn't  leave  me  well  fixed." 

Tisdale  laid  the  loosened  wire  down  on  the  ground  and 
started  to  work  on  another.  "  But  there  was  the  man  in 
Alaska,"  he  said.     "  Of  course  you  let  him  know." 

"  No,  sir."  Her  eyes  flashed  back  to  Tisdale's  face. 
"  You  wouldn't  have  caught  me  writing  to  Johnny  Banks, 
then.     I'm  not  that  kind.     The  most  I  could  do  was  to  see 


140      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

what  I  could  make  of  the  goats.  I  commenced  herding 
them  myself,  but  I  hadn't  the  face  to  do  it  down  there  in 
Oregon,  where  everybody  knew  me,  and  I  gradually  worked 
north  with  them  until  I  ended  here." 

Tisdale  had  dropped  his  knife.  He  stooped  to  pick  it 
up.     "  That's  where  you  made  your  mistake,"  he  said. 

The  woman  drew  a  step  nearer,  watching  his  face; 
tense,  breathless.  Clearly  he  had  turned  her  thoughts 
from  the  fence,  and  he  slipped  the  knife  in  farther  and 
continued  to  pry  and  twist  the  wire  loose.  "  How  do  you 
know  it  was  a  mistake?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

Tisdale  laid  the  second  wire  down.  "Well,  wasn't  it.'' 
To  punish  yourself  like  this,  to  cheat  yourself  out  of  the 
best  years  of  your  life,  when  you  knew  how  much  Banks 
thought  of  you.  But  you  seem  to  have  overlooked  his 
side.  Do  you  think,  when  he  knows  how  you  crucified 
yourself,  it's  going  to  make  him  any  happier  .^^  He  car- 
ried a  great  spirit  bottled  in  that  small,  wiry  frame,  but 
he  got  to  seeing  himself  through  your  eyes.  He  was 
ashamed  of  his  failures  —  he  had  always  been  a  little 
sensitive  about  his  size  —  and  it  wasn't  the  usual  enthusi- 
asm that  started  him  to  Alaska ;  he  was  stung  into  going. 
It  was  like  him  to  play  his  poor  joke  gamily,  at  the  last, 
and  pretend  he  didn't  care.  A  word  from  you  would  have 
held  him  —  you  must  have  known  that  —  and  a  letter 
from  you  afterwards,  when  you  needed  him,  would  have 
brought  him  back.  Or  you  might  have  joined  him  up 
there  and  made  a  home  for  him  all  these  years,  but  you 
chose  to  bury  yourself  here  in  the  desert  of  the  Columbia, 
starving  your  soul,  wasting  your  best  on  these  goats." 
He  paused  with  the  last  loosened  wire  in  his  hands  and 
stood  looking  at  her  with  condemning  eyes.  "  What  made 
you?"  he  added,  and  his  voice  vibrated  softly.  "What 
made  you  ?  " 

The  woman's   features  worked;   tears  filled  her  eyes. 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART-STRINGS     141 

They  must  have  been  the  first  in  many  months,  for  they 
came  with  the  gush  that  follows  a  probe.  "  You  know 
him,"  she  said  brokenly.  "  You've  seen  him  lately,  up 
there  in  Alaska." 

"  I  think  so,  yes.  The  Johnny  Banks  I  knew  in  the 
north  told  me  something  about  a  girl  he  left  down  in  Ore- 
gon. But  she  was  a  remarkably  pretty  girl,  with  merry 
black  eyes  and  a  nice  color  in  her  cheeks.  Seems  to  me 
she  used  to  wear  a  pink  gown  sometimes,  and  a  pink  rose 
in  her  black  hair,  and  made  a  picture  that  the  fellows 
busy  along  the  new  railroad  came  miles  on  Sundays  to 
see." 

A  bleak  smile  touched  the  woman's  mouth.  "  Dad  al- 
ways liked  to  see  me  wear  nice  clothes.  He  said  it  ad- 
vertised the  store."  Then  her  glance  fell  to  her  coarse, 
wretched  skirt,  and  the  contrast  struck  poignantly. 

Tisdale  moved  the  wires  back,  clearing  a  space  for  the 
bays  to  pass.  "  There  was  one  young  engineer,"  he  went 
on,  as  though  she  had  not  spoken ;  "  a  big,  handsome  fel- 
low, who  came  oftener  than  the  rest.  Banks  thought  it 
was  natural  she  should  favor  him.  The  little  man  be- 
lieves yet  that  when  he  was  out  of  the  way  she  married 
that  engineer." 

The  woman  was  beyond  speech.  Tisdale  had  pene- 
trated the  last  barrier  of  her  fortitude.  The  bitterness, 
pent  so  long,  fostered  in  solitude,  filled  the  vent  and  surged 
through.  Her  shoulders  shook,  she  stumbled  a  few  steps 
to  the  poplar  and,  throwing  up  her  arm  against  the  bole, 
buried  her  face,  sobbing,  in  her  sleeve. 

Tisdale  looked  back  across  the  field.  Miss  Armitage 
was  holding  the  team  in  readiness  at  the  wicket.  "  I  am 
going  now,"  he  said.  "  You  will  have  to  watch  your 
goats  until  I  get  the  horses  through.  But  if  you  will 
write  that  letter,  madam,  while  I'm  at  work,  I'll  be  glad  to 
mail  it  for  you." 


142      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  woman  looked  up.  A  sudden  hope  transfigured  her 
face.  "  I  wish  I  dared  to.  But  he  wouldn't  know  me 
now ;  I've  changed  so.     Besides,  I  don't  know  his  address." 

"  That's  so."     Tisdale  met  her  glance  thoughtfully. 
"  But  leave  it  to  me.     I  think  I  can  get  into  touch  with 
him  when  I  am  back  in  Seattle." 

Miss  Armitage  watched  him  as  he  came  swiftly  across 
the  field.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  when  he  reached  the  waiting 
team,  "how  did  you  accomplish  it.?  Are  you  a  magi- 
cian.?" 

HoUis  shook  his  head.  "  I  only  tried  to  play  a  little 
on  her  heart-strings,  to  gain  time,  and  struck  an  unex- 
pected chord.  But  it's  all  right.  It's  going  to  do  her 
good." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    LOOPHOLE 

THE  afternoon  sun  shone  hot  in  that  pocket ;  the  arid 
slopes  reflected  the  glare;  heat  waves  lifted;  the 
snow-peak  was  shut  out,  and  when  a  puff^  of  wind  found 
the  gap  it  was  a  breath  from  the  desert.  Miss  Armitage, 
who  had  trailed  pluckilj  after  Tisdale  through  the  sage- 
brush and  up  the  steep  face  of  the  bench,  rested  on  the 
level,  while  he  hurried  on  to  find  the  easiest  route  to  the 
high  plateau  and  the  spring.  He  had  left  her  seated  on 
a  flat  rock  in  the  shade  of  a  sentinel  pine  tree,  looking  over 
the  vale  to  Cerberus  and  the  distant  bit  of  the  Wenatchee 
showing  beyond  the  mouth,  but  as  he  came  back  along  the 
ridge,  he  saw  she  had  turned  her  shoulder  on  the  crouch- 
ing mountain.  At  his  far  "  Hello !  "  she  waved  her  hand 
to  him  and  rose  to  start  across  the  bench  to  meet  him. 
He  was  descending  a  broken  stairway  below  two  granite 
pillars  that  topped  a  semi-circular  bluffs  and,  springing 
from  a  knob  to  avoid  a  dry  runnel,  he  shaped  his  way 
diagonally  to  abridge  the  distance.  He  moved  with  in- 
credible swiftness,  swinging  by  his  hands  to  drop  from  a 
ledge,  sliding  where  he  must,  and  the  ease  and  expediency 
with  which  he  accomplished  it  all  brought  the  admiration 
sparkling  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  as  he  drew  near,  "  but  there 
isn't  any  easy  way.  It's  too  bad  to  have  traveled  so  far 
and  miss  the  spring,  for  the  whole  project  hinges  on  it; 
but  the  climb  is  impossible  for  you  in  this  heat." 


144       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Then  you  found  the  spring? "  she  asked  quickly. 
"  It  was  all  the  plans  promised?  " 

"  Yes."  He  began  to  walk  on  across  the  bench,  suiting 
his  steps  to  hers.  "  And  Weatherbee  had  put  in  a  small 
dam  there  to  create  his  first  reservoir.  I  found  his  old 
camp,  too;  a  foundation  of  logs,  open  now  to  the  sky, 
with  a  few  tatters  left  of  the  canvas  that  had  roofed  it 
over."  There  was  a  silent  moment,  then  he  added,  with 
the  emotion  still  playing  gently  in  his  voice :  "  I  wish  I 
could  show  you  that  place;  the  pool  is  crystal  clear  and 
cool,  rimmed  in  pines,  like  a  basin  of  opals." 

When  they  reached  the  flat  rock  in  the  shade  of  the 
pine  tree,  he  took  the  reclamation  plan  from  his  inner 
pocket  and  seated  himself  beside  her.  "  This  is  Weather- 
bee's  drawing,"  he  said.  "  See  how  carefully  he  worked  in 
the  detail.  This  is  the  spring  and  that  upper  reservoir, 
and  this  lower  one  is  a  natural  dry  basin  up  there  under 
that  bluff,  a  little  to  the  left  of  those  granite  chimneys; 
you  can  see  its  rocky  rim.  All  it  needs  is  this  short  flume 
sketched  in  here  to  bring  the  water  down,  and  a  sluice- 
gate to  feed  the  main  canal  that  follows  this  bench  we 
are  on.  Spillways  would  irrigate  a  peach  orchard  along 
this  slope  below  us  and  seep  out  through  this  level  around 
us  to  supply  home  gardens  and  lawn.  Just  imagine  it !  " 
He  paused,  while  her  glance  followed  his  brief  compari- 
sons, moving  from  the  plan  to  the  surface  of  the  bench 
and  down  over  the  slope  to  the  vale.  "  Imagine  this  tract 
at  the  end  of  four  years ;  a  billowing  sea  of  green ;  with 
peach  trees  in  bearing  on  this  mountainside;  apples,  the 
finest  Jonathans,  Rome  Beauties  if  you  will,  beginning  to 
make  a  showing  down  there.  Water  running,  seeping 
everywhere;  strawberries  carpeting  the  ground  between 
the  boles ;  alfalfa,  cool  and  moist,  filling  in ;  and  even  Cer- 
berus off  there  losing  his  sinister  shape  in  vineyards." 
"  Then  it  is   feasible,"  she  exclaimed  softly,  and  the 


THE  LOOPHOLE  145 

sparkles  broke  subdued  in  her  eyes.  "  And  the  price,  Mr. 
Tisdale;  what  would  you  consider  a  fair  price  for  the 
property  as  it  stands  now,  unimproved?  " 

Tisdale  rose.  He  paused  to  fold  the  drawing  and  put 
it  away,  while  his  glance  moved  slowly  down  over  the  vale 
to  the  goat-keeper's  cabin  and  her  browsing  flock.  "  You 
must  see,  Miss  Armitage,"  he  said  then,  "  that  idea  of 
Mr.  Morganstein's  to  plat  this  land  into  five-acre  tracts 
for  the  market  couldn't  materialize.  It  is  out  of  range 
of  the  Wenatchee  valley  projects;  it  is  inaccessible  to  the 
railroad  for  the  small  farmer.  Only  the  man  with  capital 
to  work  it  on  a  large  scale  could  make  it  pay.  And  the 
property  is  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  last  asset ;  she  is  in  urgent 
need  of  ready  money.  You  should  be  able  to  make  easy 
terms  with  her,  but  I  warn  you,  if  it  comes  to  bidding,  I 
am  prepared  to  off*er  seven  thousand  dollars." 

He  turned,  frowning  a  little,  to  look  down  at  her  and, 
catching  those  covert  sparkles  of  her  side-glance,  smiled. 

"  You  may  have  it,"  she  said. 

"  Wait.  Think  it  over,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  going 
down  to  the  gap  now  to  find  the  surveyor's  monument  and 
trace  the  section  line  back  to  the  top  of  the  plateau. 
Rest  here,  where  it's  cooler,  and  I  will  come  down  this 
way  for  you  when  I  am  through.  Think  the  project  over 
and  take  my  word  for  the  spring;  it's  well  worth  the  in- 
vestment." 

Doubtless  Miss  Armitage  followed  his  suggestion,  for 
she  sat  thoughtfully,  almost  absently,  watching  him  down 
the  slope.  At  the  foot  of  the  vale,  the  goat-woman  joined 
him,  and  it  was  clear  he  again  used  his  magic  art,  for 
presently  he  had  her  chaining  for  him  and  holding  an  im- 
pi*ovised  flag,  while  he  estimated  the  section  line.  But 
finally,  when  they  left  the  bed  of  the  pocket  and  began  to 
cross-cut  up  the  opposite  mountainside,  the  girl  rose  and 
looked  in  the  direction  of  the  spring.     It  was  cooler;  a 


146      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

breeze  was  drawing  down  from  the  upper  ridge;  a  few 
thin  clouds  like  torn  gauze  veiled  the  sky  overhead;  the 
blue  lost  intensity.  She  began  to  walk  across  the  bench 
towards  the  granite  chimneys.  In  a  little  while  she  found 
the  dry  reservoir,  walled,  where  the  plateau  lifted,  in  the 
semi-circular  bluff;  then  she  stopped  at  the  foot  of  an 
arid  gully  that  rose  between  this  basin  and  a  small  shoul- 
der which  supported  the  first  needle.  "This  was  the  stair- 
way she  had  seen  Tisdale  descend,  and  presently  she  com- 
menced to  climb  it  slowly,  grasping  bunches  of  the 
tenacious  sage  or  jutting  points  of  rock  to  ease  her 
weight. 

The  stairs  ended  in  a  sharp  incline  covered  with  debris 
from  the  decomposing  pillars ;  splinters  of  granite  shifted 
under  her  tread;  she  felt  the  edges  cutting  through  her 
shoes.  Fragments  began  to  rattle  down ;  one  larger  rock 
crashed  over  the  bluff  into  the  dry  basin.  Then,  at  last, 
she  was  on  the  level,  fighting  for  breath.  She  turned, 
trembling,  and  braced  herself  against  the  broken  chimney 
to  look  back.  She  shrank  closer  to  the  needle  and  shook 
her  head.  It  was  as  though  she  said :  "  I  never  could  go 
back  alone." 

But  when  her  glance  moved  to  the  opposite  mountain- 
side, Tisdale  was  no  longer  in  sight.  And  that  shoulder 
was  very  narrow;  it  presented  a  sheer  front  to  the  vale, 
like  the  base  of  a  monument,  so  that  between  the  chimney 
and  the  drop  to  the  gully  there  was  little  room  in  which  to 
stand.  She  began  to  choose  a  course,  picking  her  foot- 
hold cautiously,  zigzagging  as  she  had  seen  Hollis  do  on 
the  slope  above.  Midway  another  knob  jutted,  supporting 
a  second  pillar  and  a  single  pine  tree,  but  as  she  came 
under  the  chimney  she  was  forced  to  hurry.  Loose  chip- 
pings  of  granite  started  at  every  step.  They  formed  lit- 
tle torrents,  undermining,  rushing,  threatening  to  sweep 
her  down;  and  she  reached  the  ledge  in  a  panic.     Then 


THE  LOOPHOLE  147 

she  felt  the  stable  security  of  the  pine  against  her  body 
and  for  a  moment  let  herself  go,  sinking  to  the  foot  of  the 
tree  and  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands. 

Up  there  a  stiff  wind  was  blowing,  and  presently  she 
saw  the  snow-peak  she  had  missed  in  the  vale.  The  ridge 
lifted  less  abruptly  from  this  second  spur,  and  in  a  little 
while  she  rose  and  pushed  on,  lagging  sometimes,  stum- 
bling, to  the  level  of  the  plateau.  The  Wenatchee  range, 
of  which  it  was  a  part,  stretched  bleak  and  forbidding, 
enclosing  all  those  minor  arid  gulfs  down  to  the  final,  long, 
scarred  headland  set  against  the  Columbia  desert.  She 
was  like  a  woman  stranded,  the  last  survivor,  on  an  in- 
hospitable coast.  Turning  to  look  across  the  valley  of 
the  Wenatchee,  she  saw  the  blue  and  glaciered  crests  of 
the  Chelan  mountains,  and  behind  her,  over  the  neck  of  a 
loftier  height,  loomed  other  white  domes.  And  there  yes- 
terday's thunder-caps,  bigger  and  blacker,  with  fringed 
edges,  drove  along  the  sky  line.  One  purplish  mass  was 
streaming  like  a  sieve.  For  an  interval  the  sun  was  ob- 
scured, and  her  glance  came  back  to  the  vale  below  where 
Cerberus  reclined,  watchful,  his  tawny  head  lifted  slightly 
between  two  advanced  paws.  Suddenly  the  lower  clouds 
grew  brilliant,  and  shafts  of  light  breaking  through 
changed  the  mountain  before  her  to  a  beast  of  brass. 

She  turned  and  began  to  pick  her  way  through  grease 
brush  and  insistent  sage  towards  a  grove  of  pines.  In  a 
little  while  she  saw  water  shining  through  the  trees.  She 
hesitated  —  it  was  as. though  she  had  come  to  the  thresh- 
old of  a  sanctuary  —  then  went  on  under  the  boughs  to 
the  opal  pool. 

She  remained  in  the  grove  a  long  time.  When  she  re- 
appeared, the  desert  eastward  was  curtained  in  a  gray 
film.  Tom  breadths  of  it,  driven  by  some  local  current 
of  air,  formed  tented  clouds  along  the  promontory.  It 
was  as  though  yesterday's  army  was  marshalled  against 


148      THE  MM  OF  THE  DESERT 

other  hosts  that  held  the  Chelan  heights.  A  twilight  in- 
distinctness settled  over  the  valley  between.  Rain,  a 
downpour,  was  near.  She  hurried  on  to  the  brow  of  the 
plateau,  but  she  dared  not  attempt  to  go  down  around 
those  crumbling  chimneys  alone.  And  Tisdale  had  said 
he  would  come  back  this  side  of  the  vale.  Any  moment 
he  might  appear.  She  turned  to  goi  back  to  the  shelter 
of  the  pines.  It  was  then  a  first  electrical  flash,  like  a 
drawn  sword,  challenged  the  opposite  ridge.  Instantly  a 
searchlight  from  the  encamped  legions  played  over  the 
lower  plain.  She  turned  again,  wavering,  and  began  to 
run  on  over  the  first  dip  of  the  slope  and  along  to  the  first 
pillar.  There  she  stopped,  leaning  on  the  rock,  trembling, 
yet  trying  to  force  down  her  fear.  It  was  useless ;  she 
could  not  venture  over  that  stream  of  shifting  granite. 
She  started  back,  then  stopped,  wavering  again.  After  a 
moment  she  lifted  her  voice  in  a  clear,  long  call :  "  Mr. 
Tis  — da  — le!" 

"  I'm  coming !  "  The  answer  rang  surprisingly  close, 
from  the  gully  above  the  basin.  Soon  she  discovered  him 
and,  looking  up,  he  saw  her  standing  clear-cut  against  a 
cavernous,  dun-colored  cloud,  which,  gathering  all  lesser 
drift  into  its  gulf,  drove  low  towards  the  plateau.  She 
turned  her  face,  watching  it,  and  it  seemed  to  belch  wind 
like  a  bellows,  for  her  skirt  stiffened,  and  the  loosened 
chiffon  veil,  lifting  from  her  shoulders,  streamed  like  the 
drapery  of  some  aerial  figure,  poised  there  briefly  on  its 
flight  through  space.  Then  began  cannonading.  Army 
replied  to  army.  The  advancing  film  from  the  desert, 
grown  black,  became  an  illuminated  scroll;  thin  ribbons 
of  gold  were  traced  on  it,  bowknots  of  tinsel.  The  pat- 
tern changed  continually.  The  legions  repeated  their  fire ; 
javelins,  shafts,  flew.  Lightning  passed  in  vertical  bolts, 
in  sheets  from  ridge  to  ridge.  Then  the  cloud  approach- 
ing the  plateau  spoke,  and  the  curtain  moving  from  the 


THE  LOOPHOLE  149 

Columbia  became  a  wall  of  doom,  in  which  great  cracks 
yawned,  letting  the  light  of  eternity  through. 

The  girl  was  flying  down  the  slope  to  meet  Tisdale. 
She  came  with  bent  head,  hands  to  her  ears,  skimming  the 
pitfalls.  Under  her  light  tread  the  loose  debris  hardly 
stirred.  Then,  as  he  rounded  the  pillar,  her  pace  slack- 
ened. "  I  am  afraid,"  she  said  and  stumbled.  "  I  am 
afraid."  And  her  trembling  body  sank  against  his  arm; 
she  buried  her  face  in  his  coat.  "  Take  me  away  from  this 
terrible  place." 

Her  impact  had  started  the  splintered  granite  moving, 
but  Hollis  swung  instantly  and  set  his  back  to  the  crum- 
bling chimney,  clinging  there,  staying  her  with  his  arm, 
until  the  slide  stopped. 

''  See  here,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  vibrated  its  soft  un- 
dernote,  "  you  mustn't  lose  your  grip.  It's  all  right. 
Old  Mother  Nature  is  just  having  one  of  her  scolding  fits. 
She  has  to  show  the  woman  in  her  once  in  a  while.  But 
it's  going  to  end,  any  minute,  in  tears." 

She  lifted  her  face,  and  he  paused,  knitting  his  brows, 
yet  smiling  a  little,  mastering  the  terror  in  her  eyes  with 
his  quiet,  compelling  gaze.  "  Come,  Miss  Armitage,"  he 
said,  "  we  must  hurry.     You  will  be  wet  through." 

He  took  her  hand  and  began  to  lead  her  quickly  down 
the  rugged  staircase.  "  Be  careful,"  he  admonished, 
"  this  granite  is  treacherous."  But  she  gave  little  heed  to 
her  steps ;  she  looked  back  continually  over  her  shoulder, 
watching  the  dun  cloud.  Presently  she  tripped.  Hollis 
turned  to  steady  her,  and,  himself  looking  up  beyond  her, 
caught  her  in  his  arms  and  ran,  springing,  out  of  the 
gully. 

The  ledge  he  reached  formed  the  rim  of  the  natural 
reservoir  and,  measuring  the  distance  with  a  swift  glance, 
he  let  himself  over,  easing  the  drop  with  one  hand  on  the 
rocky  brink,  while  the  other  arm  supported  her.     Mid- 


160      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

way,  on  a  jutting  knob,  he  gathered  momentary  foothold, 
then  swung  to  the  bottom  of  the  basin. 

It  was  all  done  surely  but  with  incredible  haste,  while 
the  cavernous  cloud  drew  directly  overhead.  The  next  in- 
stant, from  its  brazen  depths,  it  spoke  again.  The  whole 
mountain  seemed  to  heave.  Then  something  mighty 
crashed  down.  The  basin  suddenly  darkened  as  though 
a  trap  door  had  closed,  and  Tisdale,  still  shielding  his 
companion,  stood  looking  up,  listening,  while  the  rever- 
berations rang  from  slope  to  slope  and  filled  the  vale. 
Then  silence  came. 

Miss  Armitage  drew  erect,  though  her  hand  rested  un- 
consciously on  Tisdale's  sleeve.  The  thing  that  roofed 
the  basin  was  black,  impenetrably  thick ;  in  it  she  saw  no 
possible  loophole  of  escape.  "  This  time,"  she  faltered, 
"  Fate  is  against  you." 

Her  breast  rose  and  fell  in  deep,  hurried  breaths;  in 
the  twilight  of  the  basin  her  eyes,  meeting  his,  shone  like 
twin  stars.  Tisdale's  blood  began  to  race;  it  rose  full 
tide  in  his  veins.  "Fate  is  with  me,"  he  answered,  and 
bent  and  kissed  her  mouth. 

She  shrank  back,  trembling,  against  the  rocky  wall ;  she 
glanced  about  her  with  the  swift,  futile  manner  of  a  crea- 
ture helplessly  trapped,  then  she  pressed  her  fingers  an 
instant  to  her  eyes  and  straightened.  "  You  never  will 
forgive  yourself,"  she  said;  not  in  anger,  not  in  judgment, 
but  in  a  tone  so  low,  so  sad,  it  seemed  to  express  not  only 
regret  but  finality. 

Tisdale  was  silent.  After  a  moment  he  turned  to  the 
lower  side  of  the  basin,  which  afforded  better  foothold 
than  the  wall  he  had  descended,  and  began  to  work  up  from 
niche  to  ledge,  grasping  a  chance  bunch  of  sage,  a  stunted 
bush  of  chaparral  that  grew  in  a  cranny,  to  steady  him- 
self. And  the  girl  stood  aloof,  watching  him.  Finally 
he  reached  a  shelf  that  brought  him  in  touch  with  the  ob- 


THE  LOOPHOLE  151 

struction  overhead  and  stopped  to  take  out  his  pocket- 
knife,  with  which  he  commenced  to  create  a  loophole. 
Little  twigs  rained  down;  a  larger  branch  fell,  letting 
the  daylight  through.  The  roof  was  a  mesh  of  pine 
boughs. 

At  last  he  closed  his  knife  and,  taking  firm  hold  on  a 
fixed  limb,  leaned  to  reach  his  other  palm  down  to  her. 
"  Come,"  he  said,  "  set  your  foot  in  that  first  niche  —  no, 
the  left  one.     Now,  give  me  your  hand." 

She  obeyed  as  she  must,  and  HoUis  pushed  backward 
through  the  aperture  he  had  made,  getting  the  bough  un- 
der one  armpit.  "  Now,  step  to  that  j  agged  little  spur ; 
it's  solid.  The  right  one,  too ;  there's  room."  She  gained 
the  upper  ledge  and  waited,  hugging  the  wall  pluckily 
while  he  worked  out  on  the  rim  of  the  basin  and,  stretch- 
ing full  length,  with  the  stem  of  the  tree  under  his  waist, 
reached  his  arms  down  to  her.  "  You  will  have  to  spring 
a  little,"  he  directed,  "  and  grip  my  shoulders  hard.  Now, 
come ! " 

At  last  she  was  safe  beside  him.  In  another  moment  he 
was  up  and  helped  her  to  her  feet.  They  stood  looking 
towards  the  mountain  top.  The  dun  cloud  stalking  now 
with  trailing  skirts  in  the  direction  of  the  snow-peaks, 
hurled  back  a  parting  threat.  "  It  was  the  pine  tree," 
she  exclaimed.  "  It  was  struck.  And,  see !  It  has  car- 
ried down  most  of  that  chimney.  Our  staircase  is  com- 
pletely wrecked." 

Tisdale  was  silent.  Her  glance  came  back  to  him. 
A  sudden  emotion  stirred  her  face.  Then  all  the  con- 
servatism dropped  from  her  like  a  discarded  cloak,  and 
he  felt  her  intrepid  spirit  respond  to  his  own.  Now  she 
understood  that  moment  in  the  basin ;  she  knew  it  had  been 
supreme;  she  was  great  enough  to  see  there  was  nothing 
to  forgive.  "  You  were  right,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
broke  in  those  steadying  pauses  that  carried  more  expres- 


152      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

sion  than  any  words.  "  Fate  was  with  us  again.  But  I 
owe  —  my  life  —  to  you." 

"  Sometime,"  he  answered  slowly,  smiling  a  little,  "  not 
now,  not  here,  I  am  going  to  hold  you  to  the  debt.  And 
when  I  do,  you  are  going  to  pay  me  —  in  full." 

The  beautiful  color,  that  was  like  the  pink  of  coral, 
flamed  and  went  in  her  face.  "  We  must  hurry  back  to 
the  team,"  she  said  and  turned  to  finish  the  descent  to  the 
bench.  "  Horses  are  always  so  nervous  in  an  electrical 
storm."  Then  suddenly,  as  Tisdale  pushed  by  to  help 
her  in  a  difficult  place,  she  stopped.  "  How  strange !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  That  terrible  curtain  has  lifted  from 
the  desert.  It  threatened  a  deluge  any  minute,  and  now 
it  is  moving  off  without  a  drop  of  rain." 

"  That's  so,"  he  replied.  "  A  cross  current  of  wind  has 
turned  it  up  the  Columbia.  But  the  rain  is  there;  it  is 
streaming  along  those  Chelan  summits  in  a  downpour." 

"  And  look ! "  she  cried,  after  a  moment.  "  A  double 
rainbow !  See  how  it  spans  the  Wenatchee !  It's  a  prom- 
ise." And  the  turquoise  lights  shone  once  more  in  her 
eyes.  "  Here  in  this  desert,  at  last,  I  may  come  to  my 
*  pot  of  gold.'  " 

"  You  mean,"  responded  Tisdale,  "  now  you  have  seen 
the  spring,  Weatherbee's  project  seems  possible  to  you. 
Well,  I  have  reconsidered,  too.  I  shall  not  outbid  you. 
That  would  favor  Mrs.  Weatherbee  too  much.  And  my 
interests  are  going  to  keep  me  in  Alaska  indefinitely.  I 
should  be  obliged  to  leave  the  plans  in  the  hands  of  a 
manager,  and  I  had  rather  trust  them  to  you." 

Miss  Armitage  did  not  answer  directly.  She  was 
watching  the  arch,  painted  higher  now,  less  brilliantly,  on 
the  lifting  film.  The  light  had  gone  out  of  her  face. 
All  the  bench  was  in  shadow;  in  the  valley  below  a  twi- 
light indistinctness  had  fallen.  Then  suddenly  once  more 
Cerberus  stood  forth  like  a  beast  of  brass.     She  shivered. 


THE  LOOPHOLE  153 

"  It  isn't  possible,"  she  said.  "  It  isn't  possible. 
Even  if  I  dared  —  for  David's  sake  —  to  assume  the  re- 
sponsibility, I  haven't  the  money  to  carry  the  project 
through." 

Tisdale  stopped  and  swung  around.  They  had  reached 
the  flat  rock  under  the  sentinel  pine  tree.  "  Did  you 
know  David  Weatherbee?  "  he  asked. 

She  was  silent.  He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
stood  regarding  her  with  his  upward  look  from  under 
slightly  frowning  brows.  "  So  you  knew  David,"  he  went 
on.  "  In  California,  I  presume,  before  he  went  to  Alaska. 
But  why  didn't  you  tell  me  so.?  " 

She  waited  another  moment.  In  the  great  stillness 
Hollis  heard  her  labored  breathing.  She  put  out  her 
hand,  steadying  herself  on  the  bole  of  the  pine,  then: 
"  I've  wanted  to  tell  you,"  she  began.  "  I've  tried  to  — 
but  —  it  was  impossible  to  make  you  understand.  I  —  I 
hadn't  the  courage." 

Her  voice  fluted  and  broke.  The  last  word  was  almost 
a  whisper.  She  stood  before  Tisdale  with  veiled  eyes, 
breath  still  coming  hard  and  quick,  the  lovely  color  deep- 
ening and  paling  in  her  face,  like  a  woman  awaiting  judg- 
ment. And  it  came  over  him  in  a  flash,  with  the  strength 
of  conviction,  that  this  beautiful,  inscrutable  girl  wished 
him  to  know  she  had  loved  Weatherbee.  Incredible  as  it 
seemed,  she  had  been  set  aside  for  the  Spanish  woman. 
And  she  had  learned  about  David's  project;  he  himself 
perhaps  had  told  her  years  ago  in  California.  And 
though  his  wife  had  talked  with  Morganstein  about  plat- 
ting the  land  into  five-acre  tracts  to  dispose  of  quickly, 
this  woman  had  desired  to  see  the  property  with  a  view  to 
carrying  out  his  plans.  That  was  why  she  had  continued 
the  journey  from  Snoqualmie  Pass  alone.  That  was  why 
she  had  braved  the  mountain  drive  with  him.  She  had 
loved  Weatherbee,     This  truth,  sinking  slowly,  stifled  his 


154      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

inner  consciousness  and,  wrenched  in  a  rising  commotion, 
something  far  down  in  the  depths  of  him  lost  hold.  He 
had  presumed  to  think,  in  the  infinite  scheme  of  things, 
this  one  woman  had  been  reserved  for  him.  He  had  dared 
to  let  her  know  he  believed  so ;  he  had  taken  advantage 
of  her  helpless  situation,  on  an  acquaintance  of  two  days. 
His  own  color  began  to  burn  through  the  tan.  "  You 
were  right,"  he  said  at  last,  very  gently,  "  I  never  can  for- 
give myself.  I  can't  understand  it ! "  he  broke  out  then, 
"  if  you  had  been  his  wife,  David  Weatherbee  would  have 
been  safe  with  us  here,  to-day." 

Miss  Armitage  started.  She  gave  him  a  quick,  search- 
ing glance,  then  sank  down  upon  the  rock.  She  seemed 
suddenly  exhausted,  like  a  woman  who,  hard-pressed  in 
the  midst  of  peril,  finds  unexpectedly  a  friendly  threshold. 

Tisdale  looked  off  to  the  brazen  slopes  of  Cerberus. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  censured  Weatherbee  for  any- 
thing, and  suddenly,  while  he  brooded,  protesting  over 
that  one  paramount  mistake,  he  felt  himself  unaccount- 
ably responsible.  He  was  seized  with  a  compelling  desire 
to,  in  some  way,  make  it  up  to  her.  "  Come,"  he  said, 
"  you  mustn't  lose  heart ;  to-morrow,  when  you  are  rested, 
it  will  look  easier.  And  the  question  of  ready  money  need 
not  trouble  you.  Mrs.  Weatherbee  has  reached  the  point 
where  she  has  got  to  hedge  on  the  future.  Make  her  an 
offer  of  five  thousand  dollars  in  yearly  payments,  say,  of 
fifteen  hundred.  She'll  take  it.  Then,  if  you  agree,  I 
will  arrange  a  loan  with  a  Seattle  bank.  I  should  allow 
enough  margin  to  cover  the  first  reclamation  expenses. 
Your  fillers  of  alfalfa  and  strawberries  would  bring  swift 
returns,  and  before  your  orchards  came  into  bearing,  your 
vineyards  would  pay  the  purchase  price  on  the  whole 
tract." 

He  turned  to  her,  smiling,  and  surprised  a  despair  in 
her  face  that  went  to  his  heart. 


THE  LOOPHOLE  155 

"  I  thought,  I  hoped  you  meant  to  buy  this  land,"  she 
said. 

"  So  I  did,  so  I  do,  unless  you  decide  to.  And  if  you 
undertake  this  project,  I  pledge  myself  to  see  you 
through."  His  voice  caught  a  pleading  undemote.  "  It 
rests  with  you.  Above  every  one  it  rests  with  you  to  even 
things  for  Weatherbee.  Isn't  that  clear  to  you?  Look 
ahead  five  years ;  see  this  vale  green  and  shady  with  or- 
chards; the  trees  laden  with  harvest;  imagine  his  wife 
standing  here  on  this  bench,  surveying  it  all.  See  her 
waking  to  the  knowledge  she  has  let  a  fortune  slip  through 
her  hands ;  see  her,  the  purchase  price  spent,  facing  the 
fact  that  another  woman  built  her  faith  on  David  Weath- 
erbee ;  had  the  courage  to  carry  out  his  scheme  and  found 
it  a  bonanza.  That  is  what  is  going  to  make  her  pun- 
ishment strike  home." 

Miss  Armitage  rose.  She  stood  a  moment  watching  his 
face,  then,  "  How  you  hate  her ! "  she  said. 

"  Hate? "  Tisdale's  laugh  rang  short  and  hard. 
"  Well,  I  grant  it ;  hate  is  the  word.  I  hate  her  so  much 
I've  known  better  than  go  where  she  was ;  I've  avoided 
her  as  an  electrician  avoids  charged  wire.  Still,  if  I 
had  found  myself  in  Weatherbee's  place;  if  I  had  made 
his  mistake  and  married  her,  she  should  have  felt  my 
streak  of  iron.  I  might  have  stayed  in  Alaska  as  he  did, 
but  she  would  have  stayed  too  and  made  a  home  for  me, 
helped  to  fight  things  through."  He  paused  and,  meet- 
ing the  appeal  in  her  eyes,  his  face  softened.  "  I've  dis- 
tressed you  again,"  he  added.  ^'  I'm  sorry ;  but  it  isn't 
safe  for  me  to  speak  of  that  woman;  the  thought  of  her 
starts  my  temperature  rising  in  bounds.  I  want  you  to 
help  me  forget  her.  Yet,  down  in  the  depths  of  your 
heart  you  know  you  blame  her." 

"  Yes,  I  blame  her."  Miss  Armitage  began  to  walk  on 
towards  the  edge  of  the  bench.     "  I  blame  her,  but  not  as 


156      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

you  do.  I  know  she  tried  to  do  right;  she  would  have 
gone  to  Alaska  —  if  David  had  wished  it  —  at  the  start. 
And  she's  been  courageous,  too.  She's  smiled  —  laughed 
in  the  face  of  defeat.     Her  closest  friends  never  knew." 

"  You  defend  her.  I  wonder  at  that."  Tisdale  passed 
her  and  turned  to  offer  his  help  down  the  first  abrupt 
pitch.  "  How  you,  who  are  the  one  to  censure  her  the 
most,  can  speak  for  her  always,  as  you  do.  But  there  you 
are  like  Weatherbee.  It  was  his  way  to  take  the  losing 
side;  champion  the  absent." 

"  And  there  is  where  your  resemblance  stops,"  she  an- 
swered quickly.  "  He  lacked  your  streak  of  iron.  Of 
course  you  know  about  your  strange  likeness  to  him, 
Mr.  Tisdale.  It  is  so  very  marked;  almost  a  dual  per- 
sonality. It  isn't  height  and  breadth  of  shoulder  alone; 
it's  in  the  carriage,  the  turn  of  the  head;  and  it  creeps 
into  your  eyes  sometimes ;  it  gets  into  your  voice.  The 
first  time  I  saw  you,  it  was  startling." 

Tisdale  moved  on,  picking  up  the  trail  they  had  made  in 
ascending;  the  humor  began  to  play  reminiscently  at  the 
comers  of  his  mouth.  "  Yes,  I  know  about  that  resem- 
blance. When  we  were  on  the  Tanana,  it  was  '  Tisdale's 
Twin  '  and  '  Dave's  Double.'  A  man  has  to  take  a  name 
that  fits  up  there,  and  we  seemed  to  grow  more  alike  every 
day.  But  that  often  happens  when  two  friends  who  are 
accustomed  to  think  in  the  same  channels  are  brought  into 
continual  touch,  and  the  first  year  we  spent  in  the  north 
together  we  were  alone  for  weeks  at  a  stretch,  with  no 
other  human  intercourse,  not  a  prospector's  camp  within 
a  hundred  miles.  The  most  incompatible  partners,  under 
those  circumstances,  will  pick  up  subconsciously  tricks  of 
speech  and  gesture.  Still,  looking  back,  I  see  it  was  I 
who  changed.  I  had  to  live  up  to  Weatherbee;  justify 
his  faith  in  me." 

Miss  Armitage  shook  her  head  slowly.     "  That  is  hard 


THE  LOOPHOLE  157 

to  believe.  Whoever  tried  to  mould  jou  would  feel 
through  the  surface  that  streak  of  iron."  They  had  come 
to  another  precipitous  place,  and  Tisdale  turned  again 
to  give  her  the  support  of  his  hand.  The  position 
brought  his  face  on  a  level  with  hers,  and  involuntarily 
she  stopped.  "  But  whatever  you  may  say,  Mr.  Tisdale," 
she  went  on,  and  as  her  palm  rested  in  his  the  words  gath- 
ered the  weight  of  a  pact,  "  whatever  may  —  happen  — 
I  shall  never  forget  your  greatness  to-day."  She  sprang 
down  beside  him,  and  drew  away  her  hand  and  looked  back 
to  the  summit  they  had  left.  "  Still,  tell  me  this,"  she 
said  with  a  swift  breathlessness.  *'  If  it  had  been  David 
Weatherbee's  wife  up  there  with  you  when  the  thunderbolt 
struck,  would  it  have  made  a  difference.?  I  mean,  would 
you  have  left  her  to  escape  —  or  not  —  as  she  could?  " 

Tisdale  waited  a  thoughtful  moment.  The  ripple  of 
amusement  was  gone;  the  iron,  so  near  the  surface, 
cropped  through.  "  I  can't  answer  that,"  he  said.  "  I 
do  not  know.  A  man  is  not  always  able  to  control  a  first 
impulse,  and  before  that  pine  tree  fell  there  wasn't  time  to 
hesitate." 

At  this  she  was  silent.  All  her  buoyancy,  the  charming 
camaraderie  that  stopped  just  short  of  intimacy,  had 
dropped  from  her.  It  was  as  though  the  atmosphere 
of  that  pocket  rose  and  clung  to  her,  enveloped  her  like  a 
nimbus,  as  she  went  down.  In  the  pent  heat  her  face 
seemed  cold.  She  had  the  appearance  of  being  older. 
The  fine  vertical  line  at  the  comer  of  her  mouth,  which 
Tisdale  had  not  noticed  before,  brought  a  tightness  to  his 
throat  when  he  ventured  to  look  at  her.  How  could 
Weatherbee  have  been  so  blind?  How  could  he  have 
missed  the  finer,  spiritual  loveliness  of  this  woman? 
Weatherbee,  who  himself  had  been  so  sensitive;  whose  in- 
tuition was  almost  feminine. 

They  had  reached  the  final  step  from  the  bench  to  the 


158      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

jfloor  of  the  vale  when  HoUis  spoke  again.  "  If  you  do 
decide  to  buy  this  land  and  open  the  project,  I  could 
recommend  a  man  who  would  make  a  trusty  manager." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand,"  she  replied  in  desperation. 
*'  You  don't  understand.  I  should  have  to  stay,  to  live 
in  this  terrible  place  for  weeks,  months  at  a  time.  I 
couldn't  endure  it.  That  dreadful  mountain  there  at  the 
gap  would  forever  be  watching  me,  holding  me  in." 

Tisdale  looked  at  her,  knitting  his  brows,  "  I  told  you 
it  was  dangerous  to  allow  yourself  to  feel  the  personality 
of  inanimate  things  too  much." 

*'  I  know.  I  know.  And  this  terrible  beast " —  she 
paused,  trying  to  steady  her  voice ;  her  whole  body  trem- 
bled — "  would  remind  me  constantly  of  those  awful 
Alaska  peaks  —  the  ones  that  crowded  —  threatened 
him." 

Tisdale's  face  cleared.  So  that  was  the  trouble. 
Now  he  understood.  "  Then  it's  all  right  " — -  the  minor 
notes  in  his  voice,  vibrating  softly,  had  the  quality  of  a 
caress  — "  don't  worry  any  more.  I  am  going  to  buy  this 
land  of  David's.     Trust  me  to  see  the  project  through." 


CHAPTER  XII 


HOPE  is  an  insistent  thing.  It  may  be  strangled,  lie 
cold  and  buried  deep  in  the  heart  of  a  man,  yet  sud- 
denly, without  premonition,  he  may  feel  it  rise  and  stretch 
small  hands,  groping  towards  a  ray  of  light.  So  in  that 
reminiscent  hour  while  the  train  labored  up  through  the 
Cascades  to  the  great  tunnel,  Tisdale  told  himself  this 
woman  —  the  one  woman  for  whom  he  must  have  been 
waiting  all  these  years,  at  whose  coming  old  and  cherished 
memories  had  faded  to  shadows  —  was  very  near  to  lov- 
ing him.  Already  she  knew  that  those  mysterious  forces 
she  called  Fate  had  impelled  them  out  of  their  separate 
orbits  through  unusual  ways,  to  meet.  Sometime  —  he 
would  not  press  her,  he  could  be  patient  —  but  sometime 
she  would  surely  pay  him  that  debt. 

He  dwelt  with  new  interest  on  hfs  resemblance  to  Weath- 
erbee,  and  he  told  himself  it  was  her  constancy  to  David 
that  had  kept  her  safe.  Then  it  came  over  him  that  if 
Weatherbee  had  married  her  instead  of  the  Spanish 
woman,  that  must  have  been  an  insurmountable  barrier 
between  them  to-day.  As  long  as  they  lived,  she  must 
have  remained  sacred  on  her  pedestal,  out  of  reach.  But 
how  nobly  partisan  she  was ;  how  ready  to  cross  swords 
for  Weatherbee's  wife.  That  was  the  incredible  test ;  her 
capacity  for  loving  was  great. 

The  porter  was  turning  on  the  lights.  Tisdale  moved  a 
little  and  looked  across  the  aisle.  For  that  one  moment 
he  was   glad  Weatherbee   had   made   his   mistake.     She 


160      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

was  so  incomparable,  so  adorable.  Any  other  woman 
must  have  lost  attractiveness,  shown  at  least  the  wear  and 
tear  of  that  mountain  journey,  but  her  weariness  appealed 
to  him  as  her  buoyancy  had  not.  She  had  taken  off  her 
hat  to  rest  her  head  on  the  high,  cushioned  back  of  the 
seat,  and  the  drooping  curves  of  her  short  upper  lip,  the 
blue  shadows  under  those  outward  curling  black  lashes, 
roused  a  new  emotion,  the  paternal,  in  the  depths  of  his 
great  heart.  He  wished  to  smooth  her  ruffled  hair ;  it  was 
so  soft,  so  vital ;  under  the  electric  light  it  seemed  to  flash 
little  answering  blue  sparks.  Then  his  glance  fell  to  her 
relaxed  palms,  open  in  her  lap,  and  he  felt  a  quick  solici- 
tude over  a  scratch  the  barbed  fence  must  have  made  on 
one  small,  determined  thumb. 

They  had  had  trouble  with  the  horses  in  the  vale.  Nip, 
who  had  broken  away  during  the  storm,  had  been  rounded 
in  by  the  goat-woman  and  her  returning  collie.  The 
travelers  found  her  trying  to  extricate  his  halter  which 
had  caught,  holding  him  dangerously  close,  in  the  wire 
fencing.  It  had  taken  caution  and  long  patience  to  free 
him,  and  more  to  hitch  the  excited  team.  The  delay  had 
caused  them  to  miss  the  westbound  evening  train;  they 
were  forced  to  drive  back  and  spend  the  night  at  Wenat- 
chee.  And  the  morning  Oriental  Limited  was  crowded 
with  delegates  from  some  mystic  order  on  an  annual  pil- 
grimage. There  was  no  room  in  the  observation  car; 
Tisdale  was  able  to  secure  only  single  seats  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  sleeper. 

The  train  rumbled  through  the  great  tunnel  and  came 
to  a  brief  stop  outside  the  west  portal.  It  was  snowing. 
Some  railroad  laborers,  repairing  the  track,  worked  in 
overcoats  and  sweaters,  hat  brims  drawn  down,  collars 
turned  up  against  the  bitter  wind.  The  porter  opened 
the  transoms,  and  a  piercing  draught  pulled  through  the 
smoky,  heat-laden  car.     Miss  Armitage  sat  erect  and  in- 


"THE  GODS  WOULD  DESTROY"     161 

haled  a  full  breath.  She  looked  across  at  Tisdale,  and  the 
sparkles  broke  softly  in  her  eyes.  "  It's  Wellington !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  In  a  moment  we  shall  be  racing  down  to 
Scenic  Hot  Springs  and  on  along  the  Skykomish  —  home." 
Then  she  stopped  the  porter.  "  Bring  me  a  telegraph 
blank,  please.  I  want  to  send  a  message  from  the 
Springs." 

The  limited,  under  way  again,  dropped  below  the  cloud. 
Great  peaks  and  shoulders  lifted  everywhere;  they  began 
to  make  the  loop  around  an  incredibly  deep  and  fissure- 
like gorge.  It  was  a  wonderful  feat  of  railroad  engineer- 
ing; people  on  the  other  side  of  the  car  got  to  their  feet 
and  came  over  to  see.  The  girl,  with  the  yellow  blank  in 
her  hand,  drew  close  to  Tisdale's  elbow.  "  Oh,  no,"  she 
demurred,  when  he  rose  to  offer  his  seat,  "  I  only  want 
standing  room  just  a  moment.  There's  going  to  be  a  de- 
lightful view  of  Scenic." 

The  passenger  beside  Hollis  picked  up  his  bag.  "  Take 
my  place,"  he  said.     "  I  am  getting  off  at  the  Springs." 

Then  presently,  when  she  had  moved  into  the  vacated 
seat  next  the  window,  the  peaks  stood  apart,  and  far,  far 
below  the  untouched  forest  at  the  summer  resort  stood 
out  darkly,  with  the  gay  eaves  and  gables  of  the  hotel 
etched  on  it  like  a  toy  Swiss  chalet  on  a  green  plateau. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  softly,  "  it  never  seemed  as  charming 
before;  but,  of  course,  it  is  coming,  as  we  have,  straight 
from  the  hot  desert.  There's  the  coolest,  fragrant  wood 
road  down  there,  Mr.  Tisdale,  from  the  hotel  to  Surprise 
Falls.  It  follows  the  stream  past  deep  green  pools  and 
cascades  breaking  among  the  rocks.  Listen.  We  should 
hear  the  river  now." 

Tisdale  smiled.  There  was  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the 
echo  of  the  running  trucks  and  the  scream  of  the  whistle 
repeated  from  cliff  and  spur.  They  were  switchbacking 
down  the  fire-scarred  front  of  a  mountain.     He  bent  a  lit- 


162      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

tie  to  look  beyond  her.  It  was  as  though  they  were  coast- 
ing down  a  tilted  shelf  in  an  oblique  wall,  and  over  the 
blackened  skeletons  of  firs  he  followed  the  course  of  the 
river  out  through  crowding  blue  buttes.  Returning,  his 
glance  traced  the  track,  cross-cutting  up  from  the  gorge. 

"  I  know  Surprise  Falls,"  he  said ;  "  and  the  old  Sky- 
komish  from  start  to  finish.  There's  a  point  below  the 
Springs  where  the  current  boils  through  great  flumes  of 
granite  into  a  rocky  basin.  Long  before  the  hotel  was 
thought  of,  I  fished  that  pool." 

"  I  know !  I  know !  "  she  responded,  glowing.  "  We 
—  Miss  Morganstein  and  her  brother  and  I  —  found  it 
this  summer.  We  had  to  work  down-stream  across  those 
fissures  to  reach  it,  but  it  was  worth  the  trouble.  There 
never  was  another  such  pool.  It  was  like  a  mighty  bowl 
full  of  dissolving  emeralds;  and  the  trout  loved  it.  We 
caught  twenty,  and  we  built  a  fire  on  the  rocks  and  cooked 
them.  It  was  delightfully  cool  and  shady.  It  was  one  of 
those  golden  days  one  never  forgets ;  I  was  sorry  when  it 
was  gone."  She  paused,  the  high  wave  of  her  excitement 
passed.  "  I  never  could  live  in  that  treeless  country,"  she 
went  on.  "  Water,  running  as  God  made  it,  plenty  of  it, 
is  a  necessity  to  me.  But  please  take  your  seat,  Mr.  Tis- 
dale."  She  settled  back  in  her  place  and  began  to  date  her 
telegram.  "  I  am  just  sending  the  briefest  message  to  let 
Mrs.  Feversham  know  where  I  am." 

"  The  porter  is  coming  back  for  it  now,"  he  answered. 
"  And  thank  you,  but  I  am  going  in  the  smoking- 
car." 

As  he  approached  the  vestibule,  he  caught  her  reflection 
in  the  mirror  at  the  end  of  the  sleeper.  She  was  looking 
after  him,  and  she  leaned  forward  a  little  with  parted  lips, 
as  though  she  had  started  to  call  him  back,  but  her  eyes 
clouded  in  uncertainty;  then  suddenly,  the  sparkle  rose. 
It  suff*used  her  whole  face.     She  had  met  his  glance  in  the 


"THE  GODS  WOULD  DESTROY"     163 

glass.  And  the  porter  was  waiting.  She  settled  herself 
once  more  and  devoted  herself  to  the  telegram. 

The  lines  in  Tisdale's  face  deepened  mellowly.  He  be- 
lieved that,  now  they  were  so  near  their  journey's  end,  she 
wanted  to  be  sure  of  an  opportunity  to  thank  him  some 
more.  "  I  am  coming  back,"  he  said  inwardly,  address- 
ing the  woman  in  the  mirror,  "  but  I  must  have  a  smoke  to 
keep  my  pulse  normal." 

But  he  did  not  return  to  the  sleeper,  for  the  reason  that 
at  Scenic  Hot  Springs  the  Seattle  papers  were  brought 
aboard.  The  copy  of  the  Press  he  bought  contained  the 
account  of  the  accident  in  Snoqualmie  Pass.  The  illus- 
trations were  unusually  clear,  and  Daniels'  cuts  were  sup- 
plemented by  another  labelled :  "  The  Morganstein  party 
leaving  Vivian  Court,"  which  also  designated  the  group. 

(Mrs.  Feversham,  wife  of  the  special  delegate  from  Alaska, 

in  the  tonneau. 
Her  sister.  Miss  Morganstein,  on  her  right. 
Mrs.  Weatherbee  seated  in  front. 
Frederic  Morganstein  driving  the  car.) 

And  under  the  central  picture  Hollis  read :  "  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  (Miss  Armitage?),  as  she  drove  the  machine 
into  the  embankment." 

The  paper  rattled  a  little  in  his  hands.  His  face  flamed, 
then  settled  gray  and  very  still.  Except  that  his  eyes 
moved,  flashing  from  the  photographs  to  the  headlines,  he 
might  have  been  a  man  hewn  of  granite.  "  One  more 
reason  why  the  Snoqualmie  highway  should  be  improved," 
he  read.  "  Narrow  escape  of  the  Morganstein  party. 
Mrs.  Weatherbee's  presence  of  mind."  And,  half-way 
down  the  page,  "  Mrs.  Weatherbee  modestly  assumes  an 
incognito  when  interviewed  by  a  representative  of  the 
Fress.^^ 

But  Tisdale  did  not  look  at  the  story.     He  crushed  the 


164      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

newspaper  into  the  comer  of  his  seat  and  turned  his  face 
to  the  window.  His  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  laid  it 
mechanically  on  the  sill.  So,  this  was  the  woman  who  had 
wrecked  David  Weatherbee;  who  had  cast  her  spell  over 
level-headed  Foster;  and  already,  in  the  less  than  three 
days  he  had  known  her,  had  made  a  complete  idiot  of  him. 
Suppose  Foster  should  hear  about  that  drive  through  the 
mountains  that  had  cost  him  over  seven  hundred  dollars ; 
suppose  Foster  should  know  about  that  episode  in  the 
basin  on  Weatherbee's  own  ground.  A  great  revulsion 
came  over  him. 

Presently  he  began  to  take  up  detail  after  detail  of  that 
journey.  Now  he  saw  the  real  impulse  that  had  led  her  to 
board  the  eastbound  train  in  Snoqualmie  Pass.  She  had 
recognized  him,  conjectured  he  was  on  his  way  to  find  that 
tract  of  Weatherbee's ;  and  she  had  determined  to  go  over 
the  land  with  him,  cajole  him  into  putting  the  highest  esti- 
mate possible  on  the  property.  Even  now,  there  in  the 
sleeper,  she  was  congratulating  herself  no  doubt  on  the 
success  of  her  scheme. 

At  the  thought  of  the  ease  with  which  he  had  allowed 
himself  to  be  ensnared,  his  muscles  tightened.  It  was  as 
though  the  iron  in  the  man  took  shape,  shook  off  the 
veneer,  encased  him  like  a  coat  of  mail.  Hitherto,  in 
those  remote  Alaska  solitudes,  this  would  have  meant  the 
calling  to  account  of  some  transgressor  in  his  camp.  He 
began  to  sift  for  the  prime  element  in  this  woman's  wonder- 
ful personality.  It  was  not  physical  beauty  alone ;  neither 
was  it  that  mysterious  magnetism,  almost  electrical,  yet 
delicately  responsive  as  a  stringed  instrument.  One  of 
these  might  have  kept  that  tremendous  hold  on  Weatherbee 
near,  but  on  Weatherbee  absent  through  those  long,  break- 
ing years,  hardly.  It  was  something  deeper;  something 
elusive  yet  insistent  that  had  made  it  easier  for  him  to 
brave  out  his  defeat  alone  in  the  Alaska  wilderness  than 


"THE  GODS  WOULD  DESTROY"     165 

come  back  to  face.  Clearly  she  was  not  just  the  handsome 
animal  he  had  believed  her  to  be.  Had  she  not  called  her- 
self proud?  Had  he  not  seen  her  courage?  She  had  a 
spirit  to  break.     A  soul ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 


IT  was  not  the  first  time  Jimmie  Daniels  had  enter- 
tained the  Society  Editor  at  the  Rathskeller,  and  that 
Monday,  though  he  had  invited  her  to  lunch  with  him  in 
the  Venetian  room,  she  asked  him,  as  was  her  habit,  to 
"  order  for  both." 

"  Isn't  there  something  special  you'd  like  ?  "  he  asked 
generously ;  "  something  you  haven't  had  for  a  long  time?  " 

"  No.  You  are  so  much  of  an  epicure  —  for  a  literary 
person  —  I  know  it's  sure  to  be  something  nice.  Besides," 
and  the  shadow  of  a  smile  drifted  across  her  face,  "  it  saves' 
me  guessing  the  state  of  your  finances." 

A  critic  would  have  called  Geraldine  Atkins  too  slender 
for  her  height,  and  her  face,  notwithstanding  its  girlish 
freshness,  hardly  pretty.  The  chin,  in  spite  of  its  dimple, 
was  too  strong;  the  lips,  scarlet  as  a  holly  berry,  lacked 
fullness  and  had  a  trick  of  closing  firmly  over  her  white 
teeth.  Even  her  gray-blue  eyes,  which  should  have  been  a 
dreamer's,  had  acquired  a  direct  intensity  of  expression  as 
though  they  were  forever  seeking  the  inner,  real  you. 
Still,  from  the  rolling  brim  of  her  soft  felt  hat  to  the  hem 
of  her  brown  tailor-made,  that  cleared  the  ankles  of  trim 
brown  shoes,  she  was  undeniably  chic  and  in  the  eyes  of 
Jimmie  Daniels  "  mighty  nice." 

He  was  longer  than  usual  filling  out  the  card,  and  the 
waiter  hesitated  thoughtfully  when  he  had  read  it,  then 
he  glanced  from  the  young  man  to  his  companion  with  a 
comprehensive  smile  and  hurried  away.     There  was  chilled 


"A  LITTLE  STREAK  OF  LUCK"     167 

grapefruit  in  goblets  with  cracked  ice,  followed  by  bou- 
illon, oysters,  and  a  delectable  young  duck  with  toast. 
But  it  was  only  when  the  man  brought  a  small  green  bottle 
and  held  it  for  Jimmie  to  approve  the  label  that  his  guest 
began  to  arch  her  brows. 

Daniels  smiled  his  ingenuous  smile.  "  It's  just  to  cele- 
brate a  little  streak  of  luck,"  he  said.  "  And  I  owe  it  to 
you.  If  you  hadn't  been  at  Vivian  Court  to  write  up  the 
decorations  for  that  bridge-luncheon  and  happened  to 
make  that  snap-shot  of  the  Morganstein  party,  my  lead- 
ing lady  would  have  gone  to  the  paper  as  Miss  Armitage 
straight,  and  I  guess  that  would  have  queered  me  with  the 
chief.  But  that  headline  you  introduced  about  Mrs. 
Weatherbee's  incognito  struck  him  right.  '  Well,  Jimmie,' 
he  said,  '  you've  saved  your  scalp  this  time.'  " 

The  Society  Editor  smiled.  "  You  were  a  gullible  kid- 
die," she  replied.  "  But  it's  a  mystery  to  me  how  you 
could  have  lived  in  Seattle  three  years  without  knowing  the 
prettiest  woman  on  the  boulevard  by  sight." 

Jimmie  shook  his  head.  "  I  haven't  the  shadow  of  an 
excuse,  unless  it  was  because  another  girl  was  running  such 
a  close  second  she  always  cut  off  my  view." 

"  Think,"  said  Miss  Atkins  quickly,  disregarding  the 
excuse,  "'  if  that  name.  Miss  Armitage,  had  been  tagged 
to  a  picture  that  half  the  town  would  have  recognized. 
Mrs.  Weatherbee  is  the  most  popular  lady,  socially,  in 
Seattle.  When  there's  a  reception  for  a  new  Council,  she's 
always  in  the  receiving  line;  she  pours  tea  at  the  tennis 
tournament,  and  it  was  she  who  led  the  cotillion  at  the 
Charity  ball.  You  would  find  her  name  in  all  the  impor- 
tant affairs,  if  you  read  the  society  column." 

Daniels  nodded  meekly.  "  It  was  a  hairbreadth  es- 
cape, and  I'm  mighty  grateful." 

There  was  a  little  silence  then,  but  after  the  waiter  had 
filled  the  long-stemmed  glasses  and  hurried  away,  she  said 


168      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

slowly,  her  gray-blue  eyes  sifting  Jimmie  through  and 
through :  "  It  looks  like  you've  been  playing  cards  for 
money,  but  I  never  should  have  suspected  it  —  of  you." 

Daniels  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  No  get-rich-quick 
games  for  me.  My  luck  doesn't  come  that  way.  But  it 
cost  me  nearly  two  thousand  dollars  to  find  it  out.  I've 
always  meant  to  tell  you  about  that,  sometime.  That 
two  thousand  dollars  was  all  my  capital  when  I  came  to 
Seattle  to  take  my  course  in  journalism.  I  expected  it 
to  see  me  through.  But,  well,  it  was  my  first  week  at  the 
University  —  fortunately  I  had  paid  the  expenses  of  the 
first  semester  in  advance  —  when  one  night  a  couple  of 
fellows  I  knew  brought  me  down  to  see  the  town.  I  didn't 
know  much  about  a  city  then ;  I  had  grown  up  over  in  the 
sage-brush  country,  and  I  never  had  heard  of  a  high- 
ball. To  start  with  I  had  two,  then  I  got  interested  in  a 
game  of  roulette,  and  the  last  I  remember  I  was  learning 
to  play  poker.  But  I  must  have  had  more  high-balls ;  the 
boys  said  afterwards  they  left  me  early  in  the  evening  with 
a  new  acquaintance;  they  couldn't  get  me  to  go  home.  I 
never  knew  how  I  got  back  to  the  dorm,  and  the  next  day, 
when  I  woke,  the  stubs  of  my  checkbook  showed  I  had 
signed  practically  all  of  my  two  thousand  away." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Out  in  the  main  room  the 
orchestra  began  to  play.  Miss  Atkins  was  looking  at 
Jimmie,  and  her  scarlet  lips  were  closed  like  a  straight 
cord. 

He  drew  his  hand  over  his  smooth,  close-cut,  dark  hair 
and  took  a  long  draught  from  his  glass  of  ice-water.  "  I 
can't  make  you  understand  how  I  felt  about  it,"  he  went 
on,  "  but  that  two  thousand  was  the  price  of  my  father's 
ranch  over  near  the  Columbia.  It  stood  for  years  of 
privation,  heart-breaking  toil,  and  disappointment  — 
the  worst  kind.  Two  seasons  of  drouth  we  saw  the  whole 
wheat  crop  blister  and  go  to  ruin.     I  carried  water  in 


"A  LITTLE  STREAK  OF  LUCK"     169 

buckets  from  the  river  up  to  that  plateau  day  after  day, 
just  to  keep  our  home  garden  and  a  little  patch  of  grass 
alive.  And  mother  carried  too  up  that  breaking  slope  in 
the  desert  sun.  It  was  thinking  of  that  made  me  —  all 
in.  She  worked  the  same  way  with  the  stock.  Something 
lacking  in  the  soil  affected  the  feed,  and  some  of  the  calves 
were  born  without  hair;  their  bones  were  soft.  It  baffled 
my  father  and  every  man  along  that  rim  of  the  desert,  but 
not  mother.  She  said  doctors  prescribed  lime  for  rickety 
human  babies,  and  she  made  limewater  and  mixed  it  with 
the  feed.  It  was  just  the  thing.  She  was  a  small  woman, 
but  plucky  from  start  to  finish.  And  we.  Dad  and  I, 
didn't  know  what  it  was  costing  her  —  till  she  was  gone." 

There  was  another  silence.  In  the  orchestra,  out  be- 
yond the  palms  and  screens  of  the  Venetian  room,  the  first 
violin  was  playing  the  Hwmoresque.  The  girl  leaned  for- 
ward slightly,  watching  Jimmie's  face.  Her  lips  were 
parted,  and  an  unexpected  sympathy  softened  her  eyes. 

"  She  had  been  a  school  teacher  back  in  Iowa,"  he  re- 
sumed, "  and  long  winter  evenings  and  Sundays  when  she 
could,  she  always  had  her  books  out.  Up  to  the  year  I 
was  twenty,  she  taught  me  all  I  knew.  She  tried  her 
best  to  make  a  man  of  me,  and  I  can  see  now  how  she 
turned  my  mind  to  journalism.  She  said  some  day  there 
was  going  to  be  an  opening  for  a  newspaper  right  there  in 
the  Columbia  desert.  Where  a  great  river  received  the 
waters  of  another  big  stream,  there  was  bound  to  be  a 
city.  She  saw  farther  than  we  did.  The  High  Line  canal 
was  only  a  pipe  dream  then,  but  she  believed  it  would 
come  true.  When  she  died,  we  hadn't  the  heart  to  stay 
on  with  the  ranch,  so  Dad  gave  it  to  me,  to  sell  for  what 
I  could  get,  and  went  back  to  Iowa.  He  said  he  had 
promised  her  he  would  give  me  a  chance  at  the  State  Uni- 
versity, and  that  was  the  best  he  could  do.  And,  well,  you 
see  I  had  to  come  to  the  U.  of  W.  to  stay,  and  I  was  used 


170      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  work.  I  did  all  sorts  of  stunts  out  of  hours  and  man- 
aged to  pull  through  the  second  semester.  Then  I  hiked 
over  the  mountains  to  the  Wenatchee  valley  and  earned 
enough  that  summer  vacation  to  tide  me  over  the  next 
year.  I  had  a  friend  there  in  the  sage-brush  country,  a 
station  agent  named  Bailey,  who  had  blown  a  thousand 
dollars  into  a  tract  of  desert  land  he  hadn't  seen  off  the 
map.  He  was  the  kind  of  fellow  to  call  himself  all  kinds 
of  a  fool,  then  go  ahead  and  make  that  ground  pay  his 
money  back.  He  saw  a  way  to  bring  it  under  irrigation 
and  had  it  cleared  and  set  to  apples.  But,  while  he  was 
waiting  for  the  trees  to  grow,  he  put  in  fillers  of  alfalfa 
and  strawberries.  He  was  operating  for  the  new  Mil- 
waukee railroad  then,  and  hired  me  to  harvest  his  crops. 
They  paid  my  wages  and  the  two  Japs  I  had  to  help,  with 
a  snug  profit.  And  his  trees  were  doing  fine ;  thrifty,  every 
one  in  the  twenty  acres.  Last  year  they  began  to  bear, 
only  a  few  apples  to  a  tree,  but  for  flavor  and  size  fit  for 
Eden.  This  year  he  is  giving  up  his  position  with  the 
Milwaukee;  his  orchards  are  going  to  make  him  rich. 
And  he  wrote  me  the  other  day  that  the  old  ranch  I  threw 
away  is  coming  under  the  new  High  Line  ditch.  The  com- 
pany that  bought  it  has  platted  it  into  fruit  tracts. 
Think  of  that!  Trees  growing  all  over  that  piece  of 
desert.  Water  running  to  waste,  where  mother  and  I 
carried  it  in  buckets  through  the  sand,  in  the  sweltering 
heat,  up  that  miserable  slope." 

The  Society  Editor  drew  a  full  breath  and  settled  back 
in  her  chair.  Her  glance  fell  to  her  glass,  and  she  laid 
her  fingers  on  the  thin  stem.  Jimmie  refreshed  himself 
again  with  the  ice-water.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  go  into  the 
story  so  deep,"  he  said,  "  but  you  are  a  good  listener." 

"  It  was  worth  listening  to,"  she  answered  earnestly. 
"  I've  always  wondered  about  your  mother ;  I  knew  she 
must  have  been  nice.     But  you  must  simply  hate  the  sight 


"A  LITTLE  STREAK  OF  LUCK"     171 

of  cards  now.  I  am  sorry  I  said  what  I  did.  And  I  don't 
care  how  it  happened,  here  is  to  that  '  Little  Streak  of 
Luck.'     May  it  lead  to  the  great  pay-streak." 

She  reached  her  glass  out  for  Jimmie  to  touch  with  his, 
then  raised  it  to  her  lips.  Daniels  drank  and  held  his 
glass  off  to  examine  the  remaining  liquor,  like  a  connois- 
seur. "  I  play  cards  a  little  sometimes,"  he  confessed ; 
"  on  boats  and  places  where  I  have  to  kill  time.  But," 
and  he  brightened,  "  it  was  this  way  about  that  streak  of 
luck.  I  was  detailed  to  write  up  the  new  Yacht  Club 
quarters  at  West  Seattle,  with  illustrations  to  show  the 
finer  boats  at  the  anchorage  and,  while  I  was  on  the  land- 
ing making  an  exposure  of  the  Morganstein  yacht,  a 
tender  put  off  with  a  message  for  me  to  come  aboard. 
Mr.  Morganstein  had  seen  me  from  the  deck,  where  he  was 
nursing  his  injured  leg.  He  was  lonesome,  I  suppose. 
There  was  no  one  else  in  sight,  though  as  I  stepped  over 
the  side,  I  heard  a  victrola  playing  down  below.  '  How 
are  you  ?' he  said.  *  Have  a  seat.'  Then  he  scowled  down 
the  companionway  and  called :  '  Elizabeth,  stop  that  in- 
fernal machine,  will  you  ?  ' 

"  The  music  was  turned  off,  and  pretty  soon  Miss  Mor- 
ganstein came  up  the  stairs.  She  was  stunning,  in  a 
white  sailor  suit  with  red  fixings,  eyes  black  as  midnight ; 
piles  of  raven  hair.  But  as  soon  as  he  had  introduced  us, 
and  she  had  settled  his  pillows  to  suit  him  —  he  was  lying 
in  one  of  those  invalid  chairs  —  he  sent  her  off  to  mix  a 
julep  or  something.  Then  he  said  he  presumed  we  were 
going  to  have  a  fine  cut  of  the  Aquila  in  the  Sunday  paper, 
if  I  was  the  reporter  who  made  that  exposure  at  the  time 
of  the  accident  to  his  car.  I  told  him  yes,  I  was  Daniels, 
representing  the  Press,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  in 
Snoqualmie  Pass  that  day.  '  I  was  sure  of  it,'  he  said. 
*  Watched  you  over  there  with  these  binoculars.'  He  put 
the  glasses  down  on  a  table  and  opened  a  drawer  and  took 


172      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

out  his  fountain-pen  and  checkbook.  '  That  write-up  was 
so  good,'  he  said,  handing  me  the  blank  he  had  filled,  '  I 
want  to  make  you  a  little  present.  But  you  are  the  first 
Press  reporter  I  ever  gave  anything  to,  and  I  want  this 
kept  quiet.' 

"  I  thanked  him,  but  when  I  looked  at  that  check  I  woke 
up.  It  was  for  a  cool  hundred  dollars.  I  tried  to  make 
him  take  it  back ;  I  told  him  my  paper  was  paying  me ;  be- 
sides, I  couldn't  accept  all  the  credit;  that  you  had  fixed 
up  the  story  and  put  the  names  right,  and  the  first  cut 
was  yours.  '  Never  mind,'  he  said,  '  I  have  something 
else  for  your  society  miss  to  do.  I  am  going  to  have  her 
describe  my  new  country  place,  when  it's  all  in  shape. 
Takes  a  woman  to  get  hold  of  the  scenery  and  color 
schemes.'  Then  he  insisted  I  had  earned  the  extra  money. 
Not  one  man  in  a  hundred  would  have  been  quick  enough 
to  make  that  exposure,  and  the  picture  was  certainly  fine 
of  the  whole  group.  In  fact,  he  wanted  that  film  of  the 
car  swinging  into  the  embankment.  He  wanted  to  have 
an  enlargement  made." 

"  I  see,"  said  Miss  Atkins  slowly,  "  I  see."  She  paused, 
scooping  the  crest  from  her  pineapple  ice,  then  added: 
"  Now  we  are  getting  to  the  core." 

"  I  told  him  it  belonged  to  the  paper,  but  I  thought  I 
would  be  able  to  get  it  for  him,"  Jimmie  resumed.  "  And 
he  asked  me  to  bring  it  down  to  Pier  Number  Three  just 
before  four  this  afternoon.  The  Aquila  was  starting  for 
a  little  cruise  around  Bainbridge  Island  to  his  country 
place,  and  if  I  wanted  to  work  in  something  about  her 
equipment  and  speed,  I  might  sail  as  far  as  the  Navy 
Yard,  where  they  would  make  a  short  stop.  Then  he  men- 
tioned that  Hollis  Tisdale  might  be  aboard,  and  possibly 
I  would  be  able  to  pick  up  a  little  information  on  the  coal 
question.  These  Government  people  were  '  non-commit- 
tal,' he  said,  but  there  was  a  snug  comer  behind  the  awn- 


"A  LITTLE  STREAK  OF  LUCK"     173 

ings  aft,  where  in  any  case  I  could  work  up  my  Yacht  Club 
copy." 

"  So,"   remarked  the   Society  Editor  slowly,  "  it's  a 
double  core." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ON    BOARD    THE    AQUILA 

TISDALE'S  rooms  were  very  warm,  that  afternoon. 
It  was  another  of  those  rare,  breezeless  days,  an 
aftermath  of  August  rather  than  the  advent  of  Indian 
summer,  and  the  sun  streamed  in  at  the  western  windows. 
His  injured  hand,  his  whole  feverish  body,  protested 
against  the  heat.  The  peroxide  which  he  had  applied  to 
the  hurt  at  Wenatchee  had  brought  little  relief,  and  that 
morning  the  increased  pain  and  swelling  had  forced  him  to 
consult  a  surgeon,  who  had  probed  the  wound,  cut  a  little, 
bandaged  it,  and  announced  curtly  that  it  looked  like  in- 
fection. 

"  But  I  can't  afford  to  nurse  this  hand  " —  Hollis  rose 
from  the  couch  where  he  had  thrown  himself  when  he  came 
in  from  the  doctor's  office  — "  I  ought  to  be  using  it  now." 
He  went  over  and  drew  the  blinds,  but  the  atmosphere 
seemed  more  stifling.  He  needed  air,  plenty  of  it,  clean 
and  fresh  in  God's  out-of-doors;  it  was  being  penned  in 
these  close  rooms  that  raised  his  temperature.  He  pulled 
the  shades  up  again  and  took  a  turn  across  the  floor. 
Then  he  noticed  the  crumpled  note  which,  aimed  left- 
handedly,  had  missed  the  waste  basket  earlier,  when  he 
opened  his  mail,  and  he*  went  over  and  picked  it  up.  He 
stood  smoothing  it  on  his  desk.  A  perfume,  spicy  yet 
suggestive  of  roses,  pervaded  the  sheet,  which  was  written 
in  a  round,  firm,  masculine  hand,  under  the  gilt  monogram, 
M.  F.     His  glance  ran  through  the  lines : 

"  I  am  writing  for  my  brother,  Frederic  Morganstein, 
who  is  recuperating  aboard  his  yacht,  to  ask  you  to  join  us 


ON  BOARD  THE  AQUILA         175 

on  a  little  cruise  around  Bainbridge  Island  this  afternoon 
at  four  o'clock.  Ever  since  his  interests  have  been  identi- 
fied with  Alaska,  he  has  hoped  to  know  you  personally,  and 
he  wishes  particularly  to  meet  you  now,  to  thank  you  for 
your  services  in  Snoqualmie  Pass.  In  the  general  con- 
fusion after  the  accident  I  am  afraid  none  of  us  remem- 
bered to. 

"  We  expect  to  touch  at  the  Navy  Yard  and  again  at 
Frederic's  new  villa  to  see  how  the  work  is  coming  on,  but 
the  trip  should  not  take  longer  than  four  hours,  and  we 
are  dining  informally  on  board. 

"  Do  not  trouble  to  answer.  If  the  salt  air  is  a  strong 
enough  lure  this  warm  day,  you  will  find  the  Aquila  at 
Pier  Three. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  Marcia  Feversham. 
"  Tuesday,  September  seventh." 

"  That  floating  palace  ought  to  stir  up  some  breeze." 
Tisdale  crumpled  the  invitation  again  and  dropped  it  de- 
liberately in  the  waste  basket.  "  And  to-morrow  I  shall 
be  shut  up  on  my  eastbound  train."  He  looked  at  his 
watch ;  there  was  still  half  an  hour  to  spare  before  the  time 
of  sailing.     "  After  all,  why  not  ?  " 

A  little  later,  when  he  had  hurried  into  white  flannels 
as  expeditiously  as  possible  with  his  disabled  hand,  the 
suggestion  crept  to  his  inner  consciousness  that  he  might 
find  Mrs.  Weatherbee  aboard  the  Aquila.  "  Well,  why 
not.?  "  he  asked  himself  again.  "  Why  not.?  "  and  picked 
up  his  hat. 

So  he  came  to  Pier  Number  Three  and,  looking  down 
the  gangway  as  he  crossed,  saw  her  standing  in  the  little 
group  awaiting  him  on  the  after  deck.  Morganstein 
spoke  to  him  and  introduced  him  to  the  ladies.  He  did 
not  avoid  her  look  and,  under  his  appraising  eyes,  he  saw 
the  color  begin  to  play  in  her  face.  Then  her  glance  fell 
to  his  bandaged  hand,  and  an  inquiry  rushed  to  her  lips. 


176      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

But  she  checked  the  words  in  time  and  drew  slowly  aloof 
to  a  seat  near  the  rail. 

Tisdale  took  a  place  near  the  reclining  chair  of  his  host. 
When  she  ventured  to  give  him  a  swift  side-glance,  his 
mouth  set  austerely.  But  the  space  between  them  became 
electrical.  It  was  as  though  wireless  messages  passed 
continually  between  them. 

"  Look  back.  See  how  often  I  tried  to  tell  you  I  My 
courage  failed.  Believe  in  me.  I  am  not  the  monster 
you  thought." 

And  always  the  one  response :  "  The  facts  are  all  against 
you." 

Duwamish  Head  had  dropped  from  sight;  Magnolia 
Bluff  fell  far  astern,  and  the  Aquila  steamed  out  into  the 
long,  broad  reach  of  Puget  Sound;  but  though  the  tide 
had  turned,  there  was  still  no  wind.  The  late  sun  touched 
the  glassy  swells  with  the  changing  effect  of  a  prism. 
The  prow  of  the  craft  shattered  this  mirror,  and  her  wake 
stretched  in  a  ragged  and  widening  crack.  But  under 
the  awnings  Frederic  Morganstein's  guests  found  it  de- 
lightfully cool.  Only  Jimmie  Daniels,  huddled  on  a  stool 
in  the  glare,  outside  the  lowered  curtain  that  cut  him  off 
from  the  breeze  created  by  the  motion  of  the  yacht,  felt 
uncomfortably  warm. 

The  representative  of  the  Press  had  arrived  on  board 
in  time  to  see  Tisdale  come  down  the  pier  and  had  dis- 
creetly availed  himself  of  the  secluded  place  that  the  fin- 
ancier had  previously  put  to  his  disposal.  He  had  heard 
it  told  at  the  newspaper  office  that  Tisdale,  whose  golden 
statements  were  to  furnish  his  little  scoop,  Hollis  Tisdale 
of  Alaska  and  the  Geographical  Survey,  who  knew  more 
about  the  coal  situation  than  any  other  man,  was  also  the 
most  silent,  baffling  sphinx  on  record  when  it  came  to  an 
interview. 

At  the  moment  the  AqmLa  came  into  the  open,  the  Jap- 


ON  BOARD  THE  AQUILA         177 

anese  boy  placed  a  bowl  of  punch,  with  pleasant  clinking 
of  ice,  on  the  wicker  table  before  Mrs.  Feversham,  who  be- 
gan to  serve  it.  Like  Elizabeth's,  the  emblems  on  her 
nautical  white  costume  were  embroidered  in  scarlet,  and  a 
red  silk  handkerchief  was  knotted  loosely  on  her  full,  boy- 
ish chest.  She  was  not  less  striking,  and  indeed  she  be- 
lieved this  meeting  on  the  deck  of  the  yacht,  where  for- 
malities were  quickly  abridged,  would  appeal  to  the  out- 
of-doors  man  and  pave  the  way  to  a  closer  acquaintance 
in  Washington.  But  Tisdale's  glance  involuntarily 
moved  beyond  to  the  woman  seated  by  the  rail.  Her  head 
was  turned  so  that  he  caught  the  finely  chiseled  profile,  the 
outward  sweep  of  black  lashes,  the  adorable  curve  of  the 
oval  chin  to  meet  the  throat.  She  too  wore  the  conven- 
tional sailor  suit,  but  without  color,  and  this  effect  of 
purity,  the  inscrutable  delicacy  of  her,  seemed  to  set  her 
apart  from  these  dark,  materialistic  sisters  as  though  she 
had  strayed  like  a  lost  vestal  into  the  wrong  atmosphere. 
His  brows  relaxed.  For  a  moment  the  censor  that  had 
come  to  hold  dominion  in  his  heart  was  off  guard.  He 
felt  the  magnetism  of  her  personality  drawing  him  once 
more ;  he  desired  to  cross  the  deck  to  her,  drop  a  word  into 
those  deep  places  he  had  discovered,  and  see  her  emo- 
tions stir  and  overflow.  Then  suddenly  the  enthusiasm, 
for  which  during  that  drive  through  the  mountains  he  had 
learned  to  watch,  broke  in  her  face.  "  Look ! "  she  ex- 
claimed softly.     "  See  Rainier !  " 

Every  one  responded,  but  Tisdale  started  from  his 
chair,  and  went  over  and  stood  beside  her.  There,  south- 
ward, through  golden  haze,  with  the  dark  and  wooded 
bluffs  of  Vashon  Island  flanking  the  deep  foreground  of 
opal  sea,  the  dome  lifted  like  a  phantom  peak.  "  It 
doesn't  seem  to  belong  to  our  world,"  she  said,  and  her 
voice  held  its  soft  minor  note,  "but  a  vision  of  some 
higher,  better  country." 


178      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  turned  to  give  him  her  rare,  grave  look,  and  in- 
stantly his  eyes  telegraphed  appreciation.  Then  he  re- 
membered. The  swift  revulsion  came  over  him.  He 
swung  on  his  heel  to  go  back  to  his  chair,  and  the  unex- 
pected movement  brought  him  in  conjunction  with  the 
punch  tray.  The  boy  righted  it  dexterously,  and  she  took 
the  offered  glass  and  settled  again  in  her  seat.  But  from 
his  place  across  the  deck,  Tisdale  noticed  a  drop  had 
fallen,  spreading,  above  the  hem  of  her  white  skirt.  The 
red  stain  held  his  austere  gaze.  It  became  a  symbol  of 
blood ;  on  the  garment  of  the  vestal  the  defilement  of  sacri- 
fice. 

She  was  responsible  for  Weatherbee's  death.  He  must 
not  forget  that.  And  he  saw  through  her.  Now  he  saw. 
Had  she  not  known  at  the  beginning  he  was  an  out-of- 
doors  man?  That  he  lived  his  best  in  the  high  spaces 
close  to  Nature's  heart?  And  so  determined  to  win  him 
in  this  way?  She  had  meant  to  win  him.  Even  yet,  she 
could  not  trust  alone  to  his  desire  to  see  David's  project 
through,  but  threw  in  the  charm  of  her  own  personality  to 
swing  the  balance.  Oh,  she  understood  him.  At  the  start 
she  had  read  him,  measured  him,  sounded  him  through. 
That  supreme  moment,  at  the  crisis  of  the  storm,  had  she 
not  lent  herself  to  the  situation,  counting  the  price?  At 
this  thought,  the  heat  surged  to  his  face.  He  wished  in 
that  instant  to  punish  her,  break  her,  but  deeper  than  his 
anger  with  her  burned  a  fury  against  himself.  That  he 
should  have  allowed  her  to  use  him,  make  a  fool  of  him. 
He  who  had  blamed  Weatherbee,  censured  Foster,  for 
less. 

Then  Marcia  Feversham  took  advantage  of  the  silence 
and,  at  her  first  statement,  Jimmie  Daniels  sat  erect;  he 
forgot  his  thirst,  the  discomfort  of  his  position,  and 
opened  his  notebook  on  his  knee.  "  I  understand  your 
work  this  season  was  in  the  Matanuska  coal  region,  Mr. 


ON  BOARD  THE  AQUILA         179 

Tisdale ;  you  must  be  able  to  guess  a  little  nearer  than  the 
rest  of  us  as  to  the  outcome  of  the  Naval  tests.  Is  it  the 
Copper  River  Northwestern  or  the  Prince  William  De- 
velopment Company  that  is  to  have  the  open  door?  " 

Tisdale's  glance  moved  from  the  opal  sea  to  the  lady's 
face ;  the  genial  lines  crinkled  faintly  at  the  comers  of 
his  eyes.  "  I  believe  the  Bering  and  Matanuska  coal 
will  prove  equally  good  for  steaming  purposes,"  he  re- 
plied. 

Frederic  Morganstein  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair 
and  moved  a  little,  risking  a  twinge  of  pain,  to  look 
squarely  at  Tisdale.  "  You  mean  the  Government  may 
conserve  both?  "  His  voice  was  habituall}^  thick  and  de- 
liberate, as  though  the  words  had  difficulty  to  escape  his 
heavy  lips.  "  That,  sir,  would  lock  the  shackles  on  every 
resource  in  Alaska.  Guess  you've  seen  how  construction 
and  development  are  forced  to  a  standstill,  pending  the 
coal  decision.  Guess  you  know  our  few  finished  miles  of 
railroad,  built  at  immense  expense  and  burdened  with  an 
outrageous  tax,  are  operating  under  imported  coal. 
Placed  an  order  with  Japan  in  the  spring  for  three  thou- 
sand tons." 

"  Think  of  it ! "  exclaimed  Marcia.  "  Coal  from  the 
Orient,  the  lowest  grade,  when  we  should  be  exporting  the 
best.  Think  of  the  handicap,  the  injustice  put  upon  those 
pioneer  Alaskans  who  fought  tremendous  obstacles  to 
open  the  interior ;  who  paved  the  way  for  civilization." 

Tisdale's  face  clouded.  "  I  am  thinking  of  those 
pioneers,  madam,  and  I  believe  the  Government  is  going 
to.  Present  laws  can  be  easily  amended  and  enforced  to 
fit  nearly  every  situation  until  better  ones  are  framed. 
The  settler  and  prospector  should  have  privileges,  but  at 
the  same  time  the  Government  must  put  some  restriction 
on  speculation  and  monopoly." 

Behind  the  awning  Jimmie's  pencil  was  racing  down  the 


180      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

page,  and  Morganstein  dropped  his  head  back  on  the  pil- 
low; a  purplish  flush  rose  in  his  face. 

"  The  trouble  is,"  Hollis  went  on  evenly,  "  each  senator 
has  been  so  over-burdened  with  the  bills  of  his  own  State 
that  Alaska  has  been  side-tracked.  But  I  know  the  Presi- 
dent's interest  is  waking ;  he  wants  to  see  the  situation  in- 
telligently ;  in  fact,  he  favors  a  Government-built  railroad 
from  the  coast  to  the  upper  Yukon.  And  I  believe  as 
soon  as  a  selection  is  made  for  naval  use,  some  of  those  old 
disputed  coal  claims  —  some,  not  all  —  will  be  allowed. 
Or  else  —  Congress  must  pass  a  bill  to  lease  Alaska  coal 
lands." 

"  Lease  Alaska  coal  lands  ? "  Frederic  started  up 
again  so  recklessly  he  was  forced  to  sink  back  with  a 
groan.  "  Do  you  mean  we  won't  be  allowed  to  mine  any 
coal  in  Alaska,  in  that  case,  except  by  lease?  "  And  he 
added,  turning  his  cheek  to  the  pillow,  "  Oh,  damn !  " 

Tisdale  seemed  not  to  have  heard  the  question.  His 
glance  moved  slowly  again  over  the  opal  sea  and  rested 
on  the  shining  ramparts  of  the  Olympics,  off  the  port 
bow.  "  Constance ! "  he  exclaimed  mellowly.  "  The 
Brothers !  Eleanor ! "  Then  he  said  whimsically : 
"  Thank  God  they  can't  set  steam-shovels  to  work  there 
and  level  those  peaks  and  fill  the  canyons.  Do  you 
know.?" — his  look  returned  briefly  and  the  genial  lines 
deepened  — "  those  mountains  were  my  playground  when 
I  was  a  boy.  My  last  hunting  trip,  the  year  I  finished  col- 
lege, came  to  an  untimely  end  up  there  in  the  gorge  of  the 
Dosewallups.  You  see  it.^*  That  shaded  contour  cross- 
cutting  the  front  of  Constance." 

Elizabeth,  who  had  opened  her  workbag,  looked  up  with 
sudden  interest.  "  Was  there  an  accident  ?  "  she  asked. 
**  Something  desperate  and  thrilling?  " 

"  It  seemed  so  to  me,"  he  said. 

Then  Mrs.  Weatherbee  rose  and  came  over  to  the  port 


ON  BOARD  THE  AQUILA         181 

rail.  "  I  see,"  she  said,  and  shaded  her  eyes  with  her 
hand.  "  You  mean  where  that  gold  mist  rises  between 
that  snow  slope  and  the  blue  rim  of  that  lower,  nearer 
mountain.  And  you  had  camped  in  that  gorge" — hei 
hand  dropped;  she  turned  to  him  expectantly — "with 
friends,  on  a  hunting  trip.?  " 

He  paused  a  moment  then  answered  slowly :  *'  Yes, 
madam,  with  one  of  them.  Sandy,  our  old  camp  cook, 
made  a  third  in  the  party." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    STORY    OF    THE    TENAS    PAPOOSE 

TISDALE  paused  another  moment,  while  his  far-seeing 
gaze  sifted  the  shadows  of  Constance,  then  began: 
"  We  had  made  camp  that  afternoon,  at  the  point  where 
Rocky  Brook  tumbles  over  the  last  boulders  to  join  the 
swift  current  of  the  Dosewallups.  I  am  something  of  an 
angler,  and  Sandy  knew  how  to  treat  a  Dolly  Varden  to 
divide  honors  with  a  rainbow;  so  while  the  others  were 
pitching  the  tents,  it  fell  to  me  to  push  up  stream  with 
my  rod  and  flies.  The  banks  rose  in  sharp  pitches  under 
low  boughs  of  fir,  hemlock,  or  cedar,  but  I  managed  to  keep 
well  to  the  bed  of  the  stream,  working  from  boulder  to 
boulder  and  stopping  to  make  a  cast  wherever  a  riffle 
looked  promising.  Finally,  to  avoid  an  unusually  deep 
pool,  I  detoured  around  through  the  trees.  It  was  very 
still  in  there;  not  even  the  cry  of  a  jay  or  the  drum  of  a 
woodpecker  to  break  the  silence,  until^*  suddenly  I  heard 
voices.  Then,  in  a  tangle  of  young  alder,  I  picked  up  a 
trail  and  came  soon  on  a  group  of  squaws  picking  wild 
blackberries.  They  made  a  great  picture  with  their  beau- 
tifully woven,  gently  flaring,  water-tight  baskets,  stained 
like  pottery;  their  bright  shawls  wrapped  scarfwise 
around  their  waists  out  of  the  way;  heads  bound  in  gay 
handkerchiefs.  It  was  a  long  distance  from  any  settle- 
ment, and  they  stood  watching  me  curiously  while  I  wedged 
myself  between  twin  cedars,  on  over  a  big  fallen  fir,  out  of 
sight. 

"  A  little  later  I  found  myself  in  a  small  pocket  hemmed 


STOKY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     183 

by  cliffs  of  nearly  two  hundred  feet,  over  which  the  brook 
plunged  in  a  fine  cataract.  Above,  where  it  cut  the  preci- 
pice, a  hanging  spur  of  rock  took  the  shape  of  a  tiger's 
profile,  and  a  depression  colored  by  mineral  deposit 
formed  a  big  red  eye;  midway  the  stream  struck  shelving 
rock,  breaking  into  a  score  of  cascades  that  spread  out 
fan-shape  and  poured  into  a  deep,  green,  stone-lined  pool ; 
stirring,  splashing,  rippling  ceaselessly,  but  so  limpid  I 
could  see  the  trout.  It  was  a  place  that  held  me.  When 
at  last  I  put  away  my  flies  and  started  down  the  bank,  I 
knew  dinner  must  be  waiting  for  me,  but  I  had  a  string  of 
beauties  to  pacify  Sandy.  As  I  hurried  down  to  the 
fallen  tree,  I  heard  the  squaws  calling  to  each  other  at  a 
different  point  out  of  sight  up  the  ridge;  then  I  found  a 
step  in  the  rough  bole  and,  setting  my  hands  on  the  top, 
vaulted  over.  The  next  instant  I  would  have  given  any- 
thing, the  best  years  of  my  life,  to  undo  that  leap.  There, 
where  my  foot  had  struck,  left  with  some  filled  baskets  in 
the  lee  of  the  log,  lay  a  small  papoose." 

Tisdale's  voice  vibrated  softly  and  stopped,  while  his 
glance  moved  from  face  to  face.  He  held  the  rapt  atten- 
tion of  every  one,  and  in  the  pause  the  water  along  the 
keel  played  a  minor  interlude.  Behind  the  awning  a  dif- 
ferent sound  broke  faintly.  It  was  like  the  rustle  of 
paper;  a  turned  page. 

"  The  baby  was  bound  to  the  usual-shaped  board,"  Hol- 
lis  went  on,  "  with  a  woven  pocket  for  the  feet  and  a  broad 
carrying-strap  to  fit  the  head  of  the  mother.  I  sat  down 
and  lifted  the  little  fellow  to  my  knees.  I  wore  heavy 
shoes,  studded  with  nails  for  mountain  climbing,  and  the 
mark  of  my  heel  was  stamped,  cruelly,  on  the  small  brown 
cheek ;  the  rim  had  crushed  the  temple." 

Tisdale  halted  again,  and  in  the  silence  Elizabeth  sighed. 
Then,  "  I'll  bet  you  didn't  waste  any  time  in  that  place," 
exclaimed  Morganstein. 


184      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  The  eyes  were  closed,"  resumed  Tisdale  gently.  "  I 
saw  the  blow  had  taken  him  in  his  sleep,  but  the  wanton- 
ness, the  misery  of  it,  turned  me  cold.  Then,  you  are 
right,  I  was  seized  with  a  panic  to  get  away.  I  laid  the 
papoose  back  in  the  place  where  I  had  found  him  and  left 
my  string  of  fish,  a  poor  tribute,  with  what  money  I  had 
about  me,  and  hurried  down  into  the  bed  of  the  brook. 

"  The  squaws  were  several  days'  travel  from  the  reser- 
vation, but  I  remembered  we  had  passed  a  small  encamp- 
ment a  few  miles  down  the  river  and  another  near  the 
mouth  of  the  Dosewallups,  where  a  couple  of  Indians 
were  fishing  from  canoes.  I  knew  they  would  patrol  the 
stream  as  soon  as  the  alarm  was  given,  and  my  only 
chance  was  to  make  a  wide  detour,  avoiding  my  camp 
where  they  would  first  look  for  me,  swim  the  river,  and 
[push  through  the  forest,  around  that  steep,  pyramid 
peak  to  the  next  canyon.  You  see  it  ?  —  The  Duckabush 
cuts  through  there  to  tide  water.  I  left  no  trail  in  cross- 
ing the  stony  bed  of  the  brook,  and  took  advantage  of  a 
low  basalt  bluff  in  climbing  the  farther  bank.  It  was 
while  I  was  working  my  way  over  the  rock  into  cover  of 
the  trees  that  the  pleasant  calling  on  the  ridge  behind  me 
changed  to  the  first  terrible  cry.  The  mother  had  found 
her  dead  baby. 

"  Twilight  was  on  me  when  I  stopped  at  last  on  the 
river  bank  to  take  off  my  shoes.  I  rolled  them  with  my 
coat  in  a  snug  pack,  which  I  secured  with  a  length  of  fish- 
line  to  my  shoulders  before  I  plunged  in.  The  current 
was  swift;  I  lost  headway,  and  a  whirlpool  caught  me;  I 
was  swept  under,  came  up  grazing  a  ragged  rock,  dipped 
again  through  a  riffle,  and  when  I  finally  gathered  myself 
and  won  out  to  the  opposite  shore,  there  was  my  camp  in 
full  view  below  me.  I  was  winded,  bruised,  shivering,  and 
while  I  lay  resting  I  watched  Sandy.  He  stirred  the  fire 
under  his  kettle,  put  a  fresh  log  on,  then  walked  to  the 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     185 

mouth  of  the  brook  and  stood  looking  up  stream,  wonder- 
ing, no  doubt,  what  was  keeping  me.  Then  a  long  cry 
came  up  the  gorge.  It  was  lost  in  the  rush  of  the  rapids 
and  rose  again  in  a  wailing  dirge.  The  young  squaw  was 
mourning  for  her  papoose.  It  struck  me  colder  than  the 
waters  of  the  Dosewallups.  Sandy  turned  to  listen.  I 
knew  I  had  only  to  call,  show  myself,  and  the  boys  would 
be  ready  to  fight  for  me  every  step  of  the  trail  down  to 
the  settlement;  but  there  was  no  need  to  drag  them  in; 
I  hoped  they  would  waste  no  time  in  going  out,  and  I 
found  my  pocket  compass,  set  a  course,  and  pushed  into 
the  undergrowth. 

"  That  night  j  ourney  was  long-drawn  torture.  The 
moon  rose,  but  its  light  barely  penetrated  the  fir  boughs. 
My  coat  and  shoes  were  gone,  torn  from  me  in  the  rapids, 
and  I  walked  blindly  into  snares  of  broken  and  pronged 
branches,  trod  tangles  of  blackberry,  and  more  than  once 
my  foot  was  pierced  by  the  barbs  of  a  devil's-club.  Dawn 
found  me  stumbling  into  a  small  clearing.  I  was  dull  with 
weariness,  but  I  saw  a  cabin  with  smoke  rising  from  the 
chimney,  and  the  possibility  of  a  breakfast  heartened  me. 
As  I  hurried  to  the  door,  it  opened,  and  a  woman  with  a 
milking  pail  came  out.  At  sight  of  me  she  stopped,  her 
face  went  white,  and,  dropping  the  bucket,  she  moved  back- 
ward into  the  room.  The  next  moment  she  brought  a  rifle 
from  behind  the  door.  *  If  you  come  one  step  nearer,'  she 
cried,  '  I'll  shoot.'  " 

Tisdale  paused,  and  the  humor  broke  gently  in  his  face. 
"  I  saw  she  was  quite  capable  of  it,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I 
stopped.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seemed  formidable  to 
a  woman,  and  I  raised  my  hand  to  my  head  —  my  hat  was 
gone  —  to  smooth  my  ruffled  hair;  then  my  glance  fell 
from  my  shirt  sleeves,  soiled  and  in  tatters,  down  over  my 
torn  trousers  to  my  shoeless  feet;  my  socks  were  in  rags. 
*  I  am  sorry,'  I  began,  but  she  refused  to  listen.     '  Don't 


186      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

you  say  a  word,'  she  warned  and  had  the  rifle  to  her  shoul- 
der, looking  along  the  sight.  *  If  you  do,  I'll  shoot,  and 
I'm  a  pretty  good  shot.' 

"  '  I  haven't  a  doubt  of  that,'  I  answered,  taking  the 
word,  '  and  even  if  you  were  not,  you  could  hardly  miss  at 
that  range.' 

"  Her  color  came  back,  and  she  stopped  sighting  to  look 
me  over.  '  Now,'  she  said,  '  you  take  that  road  down  the 
Duckabush,  and  don't  you  stop  short  of  a  mile.  Ain't 
you  ashamed,'  she  shrilled,  as  I  moved  ignominiously  into 
the  trail,  '  going  'round  scaring  ladies  to  death?  ' 

"  But  I  did  not  go  that  mile.  Out  of  sight  of  the  cabin 
I  found  myself  in  one  of  those  old  burned  sections,  over- 
grown with  maple.  The  trees  were  very  big,  and  the 
gnarled,  fantastic  limbs  and  boles  were  wrapped  in  thick 
bronze  moss.  It  covered  the  huge,  dead  trunks  and  logs 
of  the  destroyed  timber,  carpeted  the  earth,  and  out  of  it 
grew  a  natural  fernery."  He  turned  his  face  a  little,  in- 
voluntarily seeking  Mrs.  Weatherbee.  "  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  that  place,"  he  said.  "  Imagine  a  great  billow- 
ing sea  of  infinite  shades  of  green,  fronds  waving  every- 
where, light,  beautifully  stencilled  elk-fern,  starting  with 
a  breadth  of  two  feet  and  tapering  to  lengths  of  four  or 
five;  sword-fern-  shooting  stifily  erect,  and  whole  knolls 
mantled  in  maidenhair." 

"  I  know,  I  know ! "  she  responded  breathlessly.  "  It 
must  have  been  beautiful,  but  it  was  terrible  if  you  were 
pursued.  I  have  seen  such  a  place.  Wherever  one 
stepped,  fronds  bent  or  broke  and  made  a  plain  trail. 
But  of  course  you  kept  to  the  beaten  road." 

Tisdale  shook  his  head.  "  That  road  outside  the  clear- 
ing was  simply  a  narrow,  little  used  path;  and  I  was  so 
dead  tired  I  began  to  look  for  a  place  where  I  might  take 
an  hour's  rest.  I  chose  a  big  cedar  snag  a  few  rods  from 
the  trail,  the  spreading  kind  that  is  always  hollow,  and 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     187 

found  the  opening  screened  in  fern  and  just  wide  enough 
to  let  me  in.  Almost  instantly  I  was  asleep  and  —  do  you 
know  ?  " —  the  humor  broke  again  gently  — "  it  was  late 
in  the  afternoon  when  I  wakened.  And  I  was  only  roused 
then  by  a  light  blow  on  my  face.  I  started  up.  The 
thing  that  had  struck  me  was  a  moccasin,  and  its  mate 
had  dropped  at  my  elbow.  Then  I  saw  a  can  of  milk 
with  a  loaf  of  bread  placed  inside  my  door.  But  there 
was  no  one  in  sight,  though  I  hurried  to  look,  and  I  con- 
cluded that  for  some  unaccountable  reason  that  inhospit- 
able woman  had  changed  her  opinion  of  me  and  wanted  to 
make  amends.  I  took  a  long  draught  of  the  milk  —  it 
was  the  best  I  ever  tasted  —  then  picked  up  one  of  the 
moccasins.  It  was  new  and  elaborately  beaded,  the  kind 
a  woman  fancies  for  wall  decorations,  and  she  had  prob- 
ably bartered  with  some  passing  squaw  for  the  pair.  But 
the  size  looked  encouraging,  and  with  a  little  ripping  and 
cutting,  I  managed  to  work  it  on.  Pinned  to  the  toe  of 
the  other,  I  found  a  note.  It  ran  like  this :  '  Two  In- 
dians are  trailing  you.  I  sent  them  down-stream,  but 
they  will  come  back.  They  told  me  about  that  poor  little 
papoose.' 

"  I  saw  she  must  have  followed  me  that  morning,  while 
searching  for  her  cow,  or  perhaps  to  satisfy  herself  I  had 
left  the  clearing,  and  so  discovered  my  hiding-place.  The 
broader  track  of  her  skirts  must  have  covered  mine  through 
the  fern." 

Tisdale  paused.  The  AquUa  had  come  under  the  lee 
of  Bainbridge  Island.  The  Olympics  were  out  of  sight, 
as  the  yacht,  heeling  to  the  first  tide  rip,  began  to  turn 
into  the  Narrows,  and  the  batteries  of  Fort  Ward  com- 
manded her  bows ;  a  beautiful  wooded  point  broke  the  line 
of  the  opposite  shore.  It  rimmedi  a  small  cove.  But 
Mrs.  Weatherbee  was  not  interested;  her  attention  re- 
mained fixed  on  Tisdale.     Indeed  he  held  the  eyes  of  every 


188      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

one.     Then    Marcia    Feversham    relieved    the     tension. 
"  And  the  Indians  came  back?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  was  inevitable ;  they  had  to  come  back  to 
pick  up  my  trail.  But  you  don't  know  what  a  different 
man  that  rest  and  the  moccasins  made  of  me.  In  five 
minutes  I  was  on  the  road  and  making  my  best  time  up 
the  gorge,  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  woman  was 
standing  in  her  door  as  I  passed  the  cabin;  she  put  a 
warning  finger  to  her  lips  and  waved  me  on.  In  a  little 
while  the  ground  began  to  fall  in  short  pitches ;  sometimes 
it  broke  in  steps  over  granite  spurs  where  the  exposed 
roots  of  fir  and  hemlock  twined;  then  I  came  to  a  place 
where  an  immense  boulder,  big  as  a  house,  moving  down 
the  mountain,  had  left  a  swath  through  the  timber,  and 
I  heard  the  thunder  of  the  Duckabush.  I  turned  into  this 
cut,  intending  to  cross  the  river  and  work  down  the  canyon 
on  the  farther  side,  and  as  I  went  I  saw  the  torrent  storm- 
ing below  me,  a  winding  sheet  of  spray.  The  boulder  had 
stopped  on  a  level  bluff,  but  two  sections,  splitting  from 
it,  had  dropped  to  the  bank  underneath  and,  tilting  to- 
gether in  an  apex,  formed  a  small  cavern  through  which 
washed  a  rill.  It  made  a  considerable  pool  and,  dividing, 
poured  on  either  side  of  the  uprooted  trunk  of  a  fir  that 
bridged  the  stream.  The  log  was  very  old;  it  sagged 
mid-channel,  as  though  a  break  had  started,  and  snagged 
limbs  stretched  a  line  of  pitfalls.  But  a  few  yards  below 
the  river  plunged  in  cataract,  and  above  I  found  sheer 
cliffs  curving  in  a  double  horseshoe.  It  was  impossible  to 
swim  the  racing  current,  and  I  came  back  to  the  log.  By 
that  time  another  twilight  was  on  me.  The  forest  had 
been  very  still ;  I  hadn't  noticed  a  bird  all  day,  but  while  I 
stood  weighing  the  chances  of  that  crossing,  I  heard  the 
harsh  call  of  a  kingfisher  or  jay.  It  seemed  to  come  from 
the  slope  beyond  the  bluff,  and  instantly  an  answer  rose 
faintly  in  the  direction  of  the  trail.     I  was  leaning  on 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     189 

one  of  the  tilted  slabs,  and  I  wormed  myself  around  the 
base,  to  avoid  leaving  an  impression  in  the  wet  sand,  and 
dipped  under  the  trailing  bough  of  a  cedar,  through  the 
pool,  and  crawled  up  into  the  cavern.  There  wasn't  room 
to  stand  erect,  and  I  waited  crouching,  over  moccasins  in 
water.  The  cedar  began  to  sway  —  I  had  used  the  upper 
boughs  to  ease  myself  in  sliding  down  the  slab  from  the 
bluff  —  a  fragment  of  granite  dropped,  then  an  Indian 
came  between  me  and  the  light. 

"  While  he  stopped  to  examine  the  sand  at  the  edge  of 
the  pool,  another  followed.  He  ventured  a  short  distance 
out  on  the  log  and  came  back,  while  the  first  set  his  rifle 
against  the  trunk  and  sank  on  his  hands  and  knees  to 
drink.  The  water,  roiled  probably  by  my  steps,  was  not 
to  his  taste,  and  he  rejected  it  with  a  disgusted  '  Hwah! ' 
When  he  rose,  he  stood  looking  across  the  pool  into  my 
cavern.  I  held  my  breath,  hugging  the  bluffs  behind  me 
like  a  lizard.  It  was  so  dark  I  doubted  if  even  his  lynx 
eyes  could  discover  me,  but  he  lifted  the  gun  and  for  an 
instant  I  believed  he  meant  to  send  a  shot  into  the  hole. 
Then  he  seemed  to  think  better  of  wasting  his  ammuni- 
tion and  led  the  way  down-stream.  They  stopped  on  a 
level  bank  over  the  cataract,  and  in  a  little  while  I  caught 
the  odor  of  smoke  and  later  of  cooking  trout.  My 
cramped  position  grew  intolerable,  and  finally  I  crept  out 
into  the  pool  to  reconnoitre.  The  lig'ht  of  their  fire 
showed  both  figures  stretched  on  the  ground.  They  had 
camped  for  the  night. 

"  It  was  useless  to  try  to  go  down-stream ;  before  dawn 
Indians  would  patrol  the  whole  canyon;  neither  could  I 
double  back  to  the  Dosewallups  where  they  had  as  surely 
left  a  watch ;  my  only  course  was  to  risk  the  log  crossing 
at  once,  before  the  moon  rose,  and  strike  southward  to  the 
Lilliwaup,  where,  at  the  mouth  of  the  gorge,  I  knew  the 
mail  steamer  made  infrequent  stops.     I  began  to  work  up 


190      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

between  the  gnarled  roots  to  the  top  of  the  trunk  and 
pushed  laboriously  with  infinite  caution  out  over  the 
channel.  I  felt  every  inch  of  that  log,  but  once  a  dead 
branch  snapped  short  in  my  hand,  and  the  noise  rang 
sharp  as  a  pistol  shot.  I  waited,  flattening  myself  to  the 
bole,  but  the  thunder  of  the  river  must  have  drowned  the 
sound ;  the  Indians  did  not  stir.  So  at  last  I  came  to  the 
danger  point.  Groping  for  the  break,  I  found  it  started 
underneath,  reaching  well  around.  Caused  probably  by 
some  battering  bulk  in  the  spring  floods,  and  widening 
slowly  ever  since,  it  needed  only  a  slight  shock  to  bring  it 
to  a  finish.  I  grasped  a  stout  snag  and  tried  to  swing  my- 
self over  the  place,  but  there  came  a  splitting  report; 
and  there  was  just  time  to  drop  astride  above  that  stub  of 
limb,  when  the  log  parted  below  it,  and  I  was  in  the  river. 
I  managed  to  keep  my  hold  and  my  head  out  of  water, 
though  the  current  did  its  best  to  suck  me  under.  Then 
I  saw  that  while  the  main  portion  of  the  tree  had  been 
swept  away,  the  top  to  which  I  clung  remained  fixed  to  the 
bank,  wedged  no  doubt  between  trunks  or  boulders.  As  I 
began  to  draw  myself  up  out  of  the  wash,  a  resinous  bough 
thrown  on  the  fire  warned  me  the  Indians  were  roused,  and 
I  flattened  again  like  a  chameleon  on  the  slippery  incline. 
They  came  as  far  as  the  rill  and  stood  looking  across,  then 
went  down-stream,  no  doubt  to  see  whether  the  trunk  had 
stranded  on  the  riffles  below  the  cataract.  But  they  were 
back  before  I  could  finish  the  log,  and  the  rising  moon 
illuminated  the  gorge.  I  was  forced  to  swing  to  the 
shady  side  of  the  snag.  The  time  dragged  endlessly;  a 
wind  piping  down  the  watercourse  cut  like  a  hundred 
whips  through  my  wet  clothes;  and  I  think  in  the  end  I 
only  kept  my  hold  because  my  fingers  were  too  stiff*  to  let 
go.  But  at  last  the  Indians  stretched  themselves  once 
more  on  the  ground ;  their  fire  burned  low,  and  I  wormed 
myself  up  within  reach  of  a  friendly  young  hemlock, 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     191 

grasped  a  bough,  and  gained  shelving  rock.  The  next 
moment  I  relaxed,  all  but  done  for,  on  a  dry  bed  of 
needles." 

Tisdale  paused,  looking  again  from  face  to  face,  while 
the  humor  gleamed  in  his  own.  "  I  am  making  a  long 
story  of  it,"  he  said  modestly.     "  You  must  be  tired !  " 

"  Tired ! "  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  *'  It's  the  very  best 
story  I  ever  heard.     Please  go  on." 

"  Of  course  you  escaped,"  supplemented  Marcia  Fever- 
sham,  "  but  we  want  to  know  how.  And  what  was  your 
chum  doing  all  the  time.^^  And  wasn't  there  another 
woman  ?  " 

Frederic  Morganstein  rumbled  a  short  laugh.  "  Maybe 
you  made  the  Lilliwaup,  but  I'll  bet  ten  to  one  you  missed 
your  steamer." 

Tisdale's  eyes  rested  involuntarily  again  on  Mrs. 
Weatherbee.  She  did  not  say  anything,  but  she  met  the 
look  with  her  direct  gaze ;  her  short  upper  lip  parted,  and 
the  color  burned  softly  in  her  cheek.  "  I  made  the  Lilli- 
waup," he  went  on,  "  about  two  miles  from  the  mouth,  be- 
tween the  upper  and  lower  falls.  The  river  breaks  in  cas- 
cades there,  hundreds  of  them  as  far  as  one  can  see,  di- 
vided by  tremendous  boulders." 

"  We  know  the  place,"  said  Elizabeth  quickly.  "  Our 
first  cruise  on  the  Aquila  was  to  the  Lilliwaup.  We 
climbed  to  the  upper  falls  and  spent  hours  along  the  cas- 
cades. Those  boulders,  hundreds  of  them,  rose  through 
the  spray,  all  covered  with  little  trees  and  ferns.  There 
never  was  anything  like  it,  but  we  called  it  The  Fairy 
Isles." 

Tisdale  nodded.  "  It  was  near  the  end  of  that  reach  I 
found  myself.  The  channels  gather  below,  you  remem- 
ber, and  pour  down  a  steep  declivity  under  a  natural 
causeway.  But  the  charm  and  grandeur  were  lost  on  me 
that  day.     I  wanted  to  reach  the  old  trail  from  the  falls 


192       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

on  the  opposite  shore,  and  I  knew  that  stone  bridge  fell 
short  a  span,  so  I  began  to  work  mj  way  from  boulder 
to  boulder  out  to  the  main  stream.  It  was  a  wide  chasm 
to  leap,  with  an  upward  spring  to  a  tilted  table  of  basalt, 
and  I  overbalanced,  slipped  down,  and,  coasting  across 
the  surface,  recovered  enough  on  the  edge  to  ease  myself 
off  to  a  nearly  submerged  ledge.  There  I  stopped."  He 
paused  an  instant,  and  his  eyes  sought  Marcia  Fever- 
sham's  ;  the  amusement  played  lightly  on  his  flexible  lips. 
"  I  had  stumbled  on  another  woman.  She  was  seated  on  a 
lower  boulder,  sketching  the  stone  bridge.  I  was  behind 
her,  but  I  saw  a  pretty  hand  and  forearm,  some  nice  brown 
hair  tucked  under  a  big  straw  hat,  and  a  trim  and  young 
figure  in  a  well-made  gown  of  blue  linen.  Then  she  said 
pleasantly,  without  turning  her  head :  '  Well,  John,  what 
luck?' 

"  I  drew  back  into  a  shallow  niche  of  the  rock.  I  had 
not  forgotten  the  first  impression  I  made  on  the  woman 
up  the  Duckabush  and  had  no  desire  to  '  scare  ladies.' 
But  my  steamer  was  almost  due,  and  I  hoped  John  would 
come  soon.  Getting  no  reply  from  him,  she  rose  and 
glanced  around.  Then  she  looked  at  her  watch,  put  her 
band  to  her  mouth,  and  sent  a  long  call  up  the  gorge. 
'  Joh-n,  Joh-n,  hello ! '  She  had  a  carrying,  singer's 
voice,  but  it  brought  no  answer,  so  after  a  moment  she 
gathered  up  her  things  and  started  towards  the  bank.  I 
watched  her  disappear  among  the  trees;  then,  my  fear  of 
missing  the  steamer  growing  stronger  than  the  dread  of 
terrifying  her,  I  followed.  The  trail  drops  precipitously 
around  the  lower  falls,  you  remember,  and  I  struck  the 
level  where  the  river  bends  at  the  foot  of  the  cataract, 
with  considerable  noise.  I  found  myself  in  a  sort  of  open- 
air  parlor  flanked  by  two  tents ;  rustic  seats  under  a 
canopy  of  maple  boughs,  hammocks,  a  percolator  bubbling 
on  a  sheet-iron  contrivance  over  the  camp-fire  coals,  and, 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     193 

looking  at  me  across  a  table,  the  girl.  '  I  beg  your  par- 
don,' I  hurried  to  say.     '  Don't  be  afraid  of  me.' 

"  '  Afraid  ?  '  she  repeated.  '  Afraid  —  of  you  ?  '  And 
the  way  she  said  it,  with  a  half  scornful,  half  humorous 
surprise,  the  sight  of  her  standing  there  so  self-reliant, 
buoyant,  the  type  of  that  civilization  I  had  tried  so  hard 
to  reach,  started  a  reaction  of  my  overstrained  nerves. 
Still,  I  think  I  might  have  held  myself  together  had  I  not 
at  that  moment  caught  the  voice  of  that  unhappy  squaw. 
It  struck  a  chill  to  my  bones,  and  I  sank  down  on  the 
nearest  seat  and  dropped  my  face  in  my  hands,  completely 
unmanned. 

"  I  knew  she  came  around  the  table  and  stood  looking 
me  over,  but  when  I  finally  managed  to  lift  my  head,  she 
had  gone  back  to  the  percolator  to  bring  me  a  cup  of 
coffee.  It  had  a  pleasant  aroma,  and  the  cream  with 
which  she  cooled  it  gave  it  a  nice  color.  You  don't  know 
how  that  first  draught  steadied  me.  '  I  am  sorry,  madam,' 
I  said,  '  but  I  have  had  a  hard  experience  in  these  woods, 
and  I  expected  to  catch  the  mail  boat  for  Seattle ;  but  that 
singing  down-stream  means  I  am  cut  off.' 

"  She  started  a  little  and  looked  me  over  again  with  new 
interest.  '  The  squaw,'  she  said,  '  is  mourning  for  her 
papoose.  It  was  a  terrible  accident.  A  young  hunter  up 
the  Dosewallups,  where  the  Indians  were  berrying,  killed 
the  baby  in  jumping  a  log.' 

" '  Yes,  madam,'  I  answered,  and  rose  and  put  the  cup 
down,  '  I  am  the  man.  It  is  harder  breaking  trail  to  the 
Lilliwaup  than  coming  by  canoe,  and  the  Indians  have 
beaten  me.  I  must  double  back  now  to  the  Duckabush. 
By  that  time,  they  will  have  given  up  the  watch.' 

"  '  Wait,'  she  said,  '  let  me  think.'  But  it  did  not  take 
her  long.  A  turn  the  length  of  the  table,  and  her  face 
brightened.  '  Why,  it's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,' 
she  said.     '  I  must  row  you  to  the  steamer.'     Then  when 


194      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

I  hesitated  to  let  her  run  the  risk,  she  explained  that  her 
party  had  moved  their  camp  from  the  mouth  of  the  Dose- 
wallups  after  these  Indians  arrived  there;  they  knew  her; 
they  had  seen  her  rowing  about,  and  she  always  carried 
a  good  many  traps ;  an  easel,  sun  umbrella,  cushions,  a 
steamer  rug.  I  had  only  to  lie  down  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  she  would  cover  me.  And  she  drew  back  the  flap 
of  the  nearest  tent  and  told  me  to  change  my  clothes  for  a 
brown  suit  she  laid  out,  and  canvas  shoes.  '  Come,'  she 
urged,  *  there's  time  enough  but  none  to  waste ;  and  any 
minute  the  Indians  may  surprise  you.' 

She  was  waiting  with  the  rug  and  pillows  and  a  pair  of 
oars  when  I  came  out,  and  helped  me  carry  them  to  the 
boat  which  was  beached  a  short  distance  below  her  camp. 
When  it  was  launched,  and  I  was  stowed  under  the  bag- 
gage, with  an  ample  breathing  hole  through  which  I  could 
watch  the  rower,  she  pushed  off  and  fell  into  a  long,  even 
stroke.  Presently  I  noticed  she  had  nice  eyes,  brown 
and  very  deep,  and  I  thought  her  face  was  beautiful.  It 
had  the  expressiveness,  the  swift  intelligence  that  goes  with 
a  strong  personality,  and  through  all  her  determination,  I 
felt  a  running  note  of  caution.  I  knew  she  saw  clearly 
while  she  braved  the  extremity.  After  a  while  her  breast 
began  to  rise  and  fall  with  the  exercise,  her  cheeks  flushed, 
and  I  saw  she  had  met  the  flood  tide.  All  this  time  the 
voice  of  the  squaw  grew  steadily  nearer.  I  imagined  her, 
as  I  had  seen  others  before,  kneeling  on  the  bank,  rocking 
herself,  beating  her  breast.  Then  it  came  over  me  that 
we  were  forced  to  hug  the  shore  to  avoid  one  of  the  reedy 
shallows  that  choked  the  estuary  and  must  pass  very  close 
to  her.  The  next  moment  there  was  a  lull,  and  the  girl 
looked  across  her  shoulder  and  called  '  Clahowya ! '  At 
the  same  time  she  rested  on  her  oars  long  enough  to  take 
off  her  hat  and  toss  it  with  careless  directness  on  my 
breathing  hole.     The  squaw's  answer  came  from  above  me, 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     195 

and  she  repeated  and  intoned  the  word  so  that  it  seemed 
part  of  her  dirge.  '  Clahowya !  Clahowya !  Clahowya ! 
Wake  tenas  papoose.  Halo !  Halo  ! '  The  despair  of  it 
cut  me  worse  than  lashes.  Then  I  heard  other  voices ;  a 
dog  barked,  and  I  understood  we  were  skirting  the  en- 
campment. 

"  After  that  the  noise  grew  fainter,  and  in  a  little  while 
the  girl  uncovered  my  face.  The  channel  had  widened; 
the  tang  of  salt  came  on  the  wind ;  and  when  I  ventured  to 
raise  my  head  a  little,  I  saw  the  point  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river  looming  purple-black.  Then,  as  we  began  to  round 
it,  we  came  suddenly  on  a  canoe,  drifting  broadside,  with 
a  single  salmon  hunter  crouching  in  it,  ready  with  his 
spear.  It  flashed  over  me  that  he  was  one  of  the  two  In- 
dians who  had  tracked  me  to  the  Duckabush;  the  taller 
one  who  had  tried  to  drink  at  the  rill;  then  he  made  his 
throw  and  at  the  same  instant  the  girl's  hat  fell  again  on 
my  face.  I  heard  her  call  her  pleasant  '  Clahowya ! '  and 
she  added,  rowing  on  evenly :  '  Hyas  delate  salmon.' 
The  next  moment  his  answer  rang  astern :  '  Clahowya ! 
Clahowya !     Hyas  delate  salmon.' 

"  At  last  I  felt  the  swell  of  the  open,  and  she  leaned  to 
uncover  my  face  once  more.  '  The  steamer  is  in  sight,' 
she  said,  and  I  raised  my  head  again  and  saw  the  boat, 
a  small  moving  blot  with  a  trailer  of  smoke,  far  up  the 
sapphire  sea.  Then  I  turned  on  my  elbow  and  looked 
back.  The  canoe  and  the  encampment  were  hidden  by  the 
point;  we  were  drifting  off  the  wharf  of  the  small  town- 
site,  almost  abandoned,  where  the  steamer  made  her  stop. 
There  was  nothing  left  to  do  but  express  my  gratitude, 
which  I  did  clumsily  enough. 

"  '  You  mustn't  make  so  much  of  it,'  she  said ;  '  the  first 
thing  a  reservation  Indian  is  taught  is  to  forget  the  old 
law,  a  life  for  a  life.' 

"  '  I  know  that,'  I  answered,  *  still  I  couldn't  have  faced 


196      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  best  white  man  that  first  hour,  and  off  there  in  the 
mountains,  away  from  reservation  influences,  my  chances 
looked  small.  I  wish  I  could  be  as  sure  the  men  who  were 
with  me  are  safe.' 

"  She  gave  me  a  long,  calculating  look.  '  They  will  be 
—  soon,'  she  said.  '  My  brother  Robert  should  be  on 
the  steamer  with  the  superintendent  and  reservation 
guard.'  And  she  dipped  her  oars  again,  pointing  the  boat 
a  little  more  towards  the  landing,  and  watched  the  steamer 
while  I  sifted  her  meaning. 

"  '  So,'  I  said  at  last.  '  So  they  are  there  at  that  camp. 
You  knew  it  and  brought  me  by.' 

"  '  You  couldn't  have  helped  them  any,'  she  said,  '  and 
you  can  go  back,  if  you  wish,  with  the  guard.'  Then  she 
told  me  how  she  had  visited  the  camp  with  her  brother 
Robert  and  had  seen  them  bound  with  stout  strips  of  elk- 
hide.  They  had  explained  the  accident  and  how  one  of 
them,  to  give  me  time  at  the  start,  had  put  himself  in  my 
place." 

Tisdale  halted  a  moment ;  a  wave  of  emotion  crossed  his 
face.  His  look  rested  on  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  and  his  eyes 
dr€w  and  held  hers.  She  leaned  forward  a  little;  her  lips 
parted  over  a  hushed  breath.  It  was  as  though  she 
braved  while  she  feared  his  next  words.  "  That  possibil- 
ity hadn't  occurred  to  me,"  he  went  on,  "  yet  I  should 
have  foreseen  it,  knowing  the  man  as  I  did.  We  were  built 
on  the  same  lines,  practically  the  same  size,  and  we  had 
outfitted  together  for  the  trip.  He  wore  high,  brown 
shoes  spiked  for  mountain  climbing,  exactly  like  mine ;  he 
even  matched  the  marks  of  that  heel.  But  Sandy  wouldn't 
stand  for  it.  He  declared  there  was  a  third  man  who  had 
gone  Up  Rocky  Brook  and  had  not  come  back.  One  of 
the  squaws  who  had  seen  me  agreed  with  him,  but  they 
were  bound  and  taken  to  the  encampment.  The  next 
morning  an  Indian  found  my  coat  and  shoes  lodged  on  a 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     197 

gravel  bar  and  picked  up  my  trail.  The  camp  moved 
then  by  canoe  around  to  the  mouth  of  the  Duckabush,  tak- 
ing the  prisoners  with  them,  and  waited  for  my  trailers  to 
come  down.  They  had  discovered  me  on  the  log  crossing 
when  it  fell,  and  believed  I  was  drowned." 

There  was  another  pause.  Mrs.  Weatherbee  sighed  and 
leaned  back  in  her  chair;  then  Mrs.  Feversham  said: 
"  And  they  refused  to  let  your  substitute  go  ?  " 

Tisdale  nodded.  ''  He  was  brought  with  Sandy  along 
to  the  Lilliwaup.  The  Indians  were  traveling  home,  and 
no  doubt  the  reservation  influence  had  restrained  them; 
still,  they  were  staying  a  second  night  on  the  Lilliwaup, 
and  when  Robert  spoke  to  them  they  were  sullen  and  ugly. 
That  was  why  he  had  hurried  away  to  bring  the  superin- 
tendent down.  He  had  started  in  his  Peterboro  but  ex- 
pected to  find  a  man  on  the  way  who  would  take  him  on  in 
his  motor-boat.  Once  during  the  night  John  had  drifted 
close  to  the  camp  to  listen,  but  things  were  quiet,  and  they 
had  bridged  the  morning  with  a  little  fishing  and  sketch- 
ing up-stream. 

" '  Suppose,'  I  said  at  last,  '  suppose  you  had  been 
afraid  of  me.  I  should  be  doubling  back  to  the  Ducka- 
bush now.  As  it  is,  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  their  opinion 
of  me.' 

"  '  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  that  man  Sandy,'  she 
said,  and  —  did  I  tell  you  she  had  a  very  nice  smile  ?  ^  He 
called  you  true  gold.'  And  while  she  went  on  to  repeat 
the  rest  he  had  told  her,  it  struck  me  pleasantly  I  was  lis- 
tening to  my  own  obituary.  But  the  steamer  was  draw- 
ing close.  She  whistled  the  landing,  and  the  girl  dipped 
her  oars  again,  pulling  her  long,  even  strokes.  I  threw 
off  the  rug  and  sat  erect,  ready  to  ease  the  boat  off^  as  we 
came  alongside.  And  there  on  the  lower  deck  watching 
us  stood  a  young  fellow  whom,  from  his  resemblance  to 
her,  I  knew  as  brother  Robert,  with  the  superintendent 


198      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

from  the  reservation,  backed  by  the  whole  patrol.  Then 
my  old  friend  Doctor  Wise,  the  new  coroner  at  Hoods- 
port,  came  edging  through  the  crowd  to  take  my  hand. 
'  Well,  well,  Tisdale,  old  man,'  he  said,  '  this  is  good.  Do 
you  know  they  had  you  drowned  —  or  worse?  '  " 

Tisdale  settled  back  in  his  chair  and,  turning  his  face, 
looked  off  the  port  bow.  The  Narrows  had  dropped  be- 
hind, and  for  a  moment  the  deck  of  the  Aquila  slanted  to 
the  tide  rip  off  Port  Orchard ;  then  she  righted  and  raced 
lightly  across  the  broad  channel.  Ahead,  off  Bremerton 
Navy  Yard,  some  anchored  cruisers  rose  in  black  sil- 
houette against  a  brilliant  sea. 

"  And,"  said  Marcia  Feversham,  "  of  course  you  went 
to  the  camp  in  a  body  and  released  the  prisoners." 

"  Yes,  we  used  the  mail  steamer's  boats,  and  she  waited 
for  us  until  the  inquest  was  over,  then  brought  us  on  to 
Seattle.  The  motor-boat  took  the  doctor  and  superin- 
tendent home." 

*'  And  the  girl,"  said  Elizabeth  after  a  moment,  "  did 
you  never  see  her  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes."  The  genial  lines  deepened,  and  HoUis  rose 
from  his  chair.  "  Often.  I  always  look  them  up  when  I 
am  in  Seattle." 

"But  who  was  John?" 

"  John?     Why,  he  was  her  husband." 

The  Olympics  had  reappeared;  the  sun  dropped  behind 
a  cloud  over  a  high  crest;  shafts  of  light  silvered  the 
gorges;  the  peaks  caught  an  amethyst  glow.  Tisdale, 
tracing  once  more  that  far  canyon  across  the  front  of 
Constance,  walked  slowly  forward  into  the  bows. 

The  yacht  touched  the  Bremerton  dock  to  take  on  the 
lieutenant  who  was  expected  aboard,  and  at  the  same  time 
Jimmie  Daniels  swung  lightly  over  the  side  aft.  The 
Seattle  steamer  whistled  from  her  slip  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  wharf,  and  he  hurried  to  the  gang-plank.     There 


STORY  OF  THE  TENAS  PAPOOSE     199 

he  sent  a  glance  behind  and  saw  Tisdale  still  standing 
with  his  back  squared  to  the  landing,  looking  off  over 
the  harbor.  And  the  Press  representative  smiled.  He 
had  gathered  little  information  in  regard  to  the  coal 
question,  but  in  that  notebook,  buttoned  snugly  away  in 
his  coat,  he  had  set  down  the  papoose  story,  word  for 
word. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE    ALTERNATIVE 


TISDALE  did  not  follow  the  lieutenant  aft.  When 
the  Aquila  turned  into  Port  Orchard,  he  still  re- 
mained looking  off  her  bows.  The  sun  had  set,  a  soft 
breeze  was  in  his  face,  and  the  Sound  was  no  longer  a 
mirror ;  it  fluted,  broke  in  racy  waves ;  the  cutwater  struck 
from  them  an  intricate  melody.  Northward  a  few  thin 
streamers  of  cloud  warmed  like  painted  flames,  and  their 
reflection  changed  the  sea  to  running  fire.  Then  he  was 
conscious  that  some  one  approached  behind  him;  she 
stopped  at  his  elbow  to  watch  the  brilliant  scene.  And  in- 
stantly the  spirit  of  combat  in  him  stirred;  his  muscles 
tightened  like  those  of  a  man  on  guard. 

After  a  moment  she  conmienced  to  sing  very  softly,  in 
unison  with  the  music  of  the  waves  along  the  keel, 

"  How  dear  to  me  the  hour  when  daylight  dies." 

Even  subdued,  her  voice  was  beautiful.  It  began 
surely,  insistently,  to  undermine  all  that  stout  breastwork 
he  had  reared  against  her  these  twenty-four  hours.  But 
he  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  turned  to  her  with 
that  upward  look   of  probing,  upbraiding  eyes. 

The  song  died.  A  flush  rose  over  her  face,  but  she 
met  the  look  bravely.  "  I  came  to  explain,"  she  said. 
"  I  thought  at  the  beginning,  when  we  started  on  that 
drive  through  the  mountains,  you  knew  my  identity. 
Afterwards  I  tried  repeatedly  to  tell  you,  but  when  I  saw 
how  bitterly  you  —  hated  —  me,  my  courage  failed." 

Her  lip  trembled  over  a  sighing  breath,  and  she  looked 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  201 

away  up  the  brilliant  sea.  Tisdale  could  not  doubt  her. 
His  mind  raced  back  to  incident  on  incident  of  that 
journey;  in  flashes  it  was  all  made  clear  to  him.  Even 
during  that  supreme  hour  of  the  electrical  storm  had  she 
not  tried  to  undeceive  him?  He  forgave  her  her  trans- 
gressions against  him;  he  forgave  her  so  completely  that, 
at  the  recollection  of  the  one  moment  in  the  basin,  his 
pulses  sang.  Then,  inside  his  pockets,  his  hands  clenched, 
and  he  scourged  himself  for  the  lapse. 

"  I  was  in  desperate  need,"  she  went  on  quickly.  "  There 
was  a  debt  —  a  debt  of  honor  —  I  wished  to  pay.  And 
Mr.  Foster  told  me  you  were  interested  in  that  desert 
land ;  that  you  were  going  to  look  it  over.  He  caught  me 
by  long  distance  telephone  the  night  he  sailed  for  Alaska, 
to  let  me  know.  Oh,  it  all  sounds  sordid,  but  if  you  have 
ever  come  to  the  ragged  edge  of  things  — " 

She  stopped,  with  a  little  outward,  deprecating  move- 
ment of  her  hands,  and  turned  again  to  meet  Tisdale's 
look.  But  he  was  still  silent.  "  I  believed  when  you 
knew  me,"  she  went  on,  "  you  would  see  I  am  not  the  kind 
of  woman  you  imagined;  I  even  hoped,  for  David's  sake, 
you  would  forgive  me.  But  I  did  not  know  there  was 
such  friendship  as  yours  in  the  world.  I  thought  only 
mothers  loved  so,^-—  the  great  ones,  the  Hagars,  the  Marys. 
It  is  more  than  that;  it  is  the  best  and  deepest  of  every 
kind  of  love  in  one.  I  can't  fathom  it  —  unless  —  men 
sometimes  are  bom  with  twin  souls." 

It  was  not  the  influence  of  her  personality  now;  it  was 
not  any  magnetism.  Something  far  down  in  the  depths 
of  him  responded  to  that  something  in  her.  It  was  as 
though  he  felt  the  white  soul  of  her  rising  transcendent 
over  her  body.  It  spoke  in  her  pose,  her  eloquent  face, 
and  it  filled  the  brief  silence  with  an  insistent,  almost 
vibrant  appeal. 

"  They  are,"  he  answered,  and  the  emotion  in  his  own 


202       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

face  played  softly  through  his  voice,  "  I  am  sure  that  they 
are.  Weatherbee  had  other  friends,  plenty  of  them,  scat- 
tered from  the  Yukon  territory  to  Nome ;  men  who  would 
have  been  glad  to  go  out  of  their  way  to  serve  him,  if  they 
had  known ;  but  he  never  asked  anything  of  them ;  he  saved 
the  right  to  call  on  me.  Neither  of  us  ever  came  as  near 
that  '  ragged  edge  of  things  '  as  he  did,  toppled  on  it  as  he 
did,  for  so  long.  There  never  was  a  braver  fight,  against 
greater  odds,  single-handed,  yet  I  failed  him."  He  paused 
while  his  eyes  again  sought  that  high  gorge  of  the  Olym- 
pic Mountains,  then  added :  "  The  most  I  can  do  now  is 
to  see  that  his  work  is  carried  on." 

"  You  mean,"  she  said  not  quite  steadily,  "  you  are  go- 
ing to  buy  that  land.?  " 

"  I  mean  " —  he  frowned  a  little  — "  I  am  going  to  re- 
new my  offer  to  finance  the  project  for  you.  You  owe 
it  to  David  Weatherbee- even  more  than  I  do.  Go  back  to 
that  pocket;  set  his  desert  blossoming.  It's  your  only 
salvation." 

She  groped  for  the  bulwark  behind  her  and  moved  back 
to  its  support.  "  I  could  not.  I  could  not.  I  should 
go  mad  in  that  terrible  place." 

"  Listen,  madam."  He  said  this  very  gently,  but  his 
voice  carried  its  vibrant  undernote  as  though  down  be- 
neath the  surface  a  waiting  reserve  force  stirred.  "  I  did 
not  tell  all  about  that  orchard  of  spruce  twigs.  It  was 
planted  along  a  bench,  the  miniature  of  the  one  we  climbed 
in  the  Wenatchee  Mountains,  that  was  crossed  with  tiny, 
frozen,  irrigating  canals  leading  from  a  basin;  and  mid- 
way stood  a  house.  You  must  have  known  that  trick  he 
had  of  carving  small  things  with  his  pocket-knife.  Then 
imagine  that  delicately  modeled  house  of  snow.  It  was 
the  nucleus  of  the  whole,  and  before  the  door,  fine  as 
a  cameo  and  holding  a  bundle  in  her  arms,  was  set  the 
image  of  a  woman." 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  203 

There  was  a  silent  moment.  She  waited,  leaning  a 
little  forward,  watching  Tisdale's  face,  while  a  sort  of  in- 
credulous surprise  rose  through  the  despair  in  her  eyes. 
"  There  were  women  at  Fairbanks  and  Seward  after  the 
first  year,"  he  went  on.  "  Bright,  refined  women  who 
would  have  counted  it  a  privilege  to  share  things,  his  hard- 
est luck,  with  David  Weatherbee.  But  the  best  of  them  in 
his  eyes  was  nothing  more  than  a  shadow.  There  was 
just  one  woman  in  the  world  for  him.  That  image  stood 
for  you.  The  whole  project  revolved  around  you.  It 
would  be  incomplete  now  without  you." 

She  shrank  closer  against  the  bulwark,  glancing  about 
her  with  the  swift  look  of  a  creature  trapped,  then  for  a 
moment  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands.  When  she  tried 
to  say  something,  the  words  would  not  come.  Her  lips, 
her  whole  face  quivered,  but  she  could  only  shake  her  head 
in  protest  again  and  again. 

Tisdale  waited,  watching  her  with  his  upward  look 
from  under  contracted  brows.  "  What  else  can  you  do  ?  " 
he  asked  at  last.  "  Your  tract  is  too  small  to  be  handled 
by  a  syndicate,  and  now  that  the  levels  of  the  Columbia 
desert  are  to  be  brought  under  a  big  irrigation  project, 
which  means  a  nominal  expense  to  the  grower,  your  high 
pocket,  unimproved,  will  hardly  attract  the  single  buyer. 
Will  you,  then,  plat  it  in  five-acre  tracts  for  the  Seattle 
market  and  invite  the  —  interest  of  your  friends.?  " 

She  drew  erect ;  the  danger  signals  flamed  briefly  in  her 
eyes.  "My  friends  can  be  dis-interested,  Mr.  Tisdale. 
It  has  only  been  through  them,  for  a  long  time,  I  have 
been  able  to  keep  my  hold." 

"  There's  where  you  made  your  mistake  at  the  start ; 
in  gaining  that  hold.  When  you  conformed  to  their 
standards,  your  own  were  overthrown." 

"  That  is  not  true."  She  did  not  raise  her  voice  any ; 
it  dropped  rather  to  a  minor  note,  but  a  tremor  ran  over 


204      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

her  body,  and  her  face  for  an  instant  betrayed  how  deep 
the  shaft  had  struck.  "  And,  always,  when  I  have  ac- 
cepted a  favor,  I  have  given  full  measure  in  exchange. 
But  there  is  an  alternative  you  seem  to  have  overlooked." 

"  I  understand,"  he  said  slowly,  and  his  color  rose. 
"  You  may  marry  again."  Then  he  asked,  without  pro- 
test:    "Is  it  Foster?" 

On  occasion,  during  that  long  drive  through  the  moun- 
tains, he  had  felt  the  varying  height  and  thickness  of  an 
invisible  barrier,  but  never,  until  that  moment,  its  chill. 
Then  Marcia  Feversham  called  her,  and  she  turned  to  go 
down  the  deck.  "  I'm  coming !  "  she  answered  and  stopped 
to  look  back.  "  You  need  not  trouble  about  Mr.  Fos- 
ter," she  said.     "  He  —  is  safe." 


CHAPTER  XVII 


FREDERIC  had  suggested  a  rubber  at  auction 
bridge. 

Elizabeth  fixed  another  pillow  under  his  shoulders  and 
moved  the  card  table  to  his  satisfaction,  then  took  a  chair 
near  the  players  and  unfolded  her  crochet,  while  Tisdale, 
whose  injured  hand  excluded  him  from  the  game,  seated 
himself  beside  her.  He  asked  whimsically  if  she  was  manu-^ 
facturing  a  cloud  like  the  one  in  the  west  where  the  sun 
had  set;  but  she  lacked  her  sister's  ready  repartee,  and, 
arresting  her  needle  long  enough  to  glance  at  him  and 
back  to  the  woolly,  peach-pink  pile  in  her  lap,  answered 
seriously :  "  It's  going  to  be  a  hug-me-tight." 

The  lieutenant  laughed.  "  Sounds  interesting,  does  it 
not?"  he  said,  shuffling  the  cards.  "But  calm  yourself, 
sir;  a  hug-me-tight  is  merely  a  kind  of  sweater  built  on 
the  lines  of  a  vest." 

He  dealt,  and  Mrs.  Feversham  bid  a  lily.  From  his 
position  Tisdale  was  able  to  watch  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  face 
and  her  cards.  She  held  herself  erect  in  a  subdued  ex- 
citement as  the  game  progressed;  the  pink  flush  deepened 
and  went  and  came  in  her  cheek ;  the  blue  lights  danced  in 
her  eyes.  Repeatedly  she  flashed  intelligence  to  her  part- 
ner across  the  board.  And  the  lieutenant  began  to  wait 
in  critical  moments  for  the  glance.  They  won  the  first 
hand.  Then  it  became  apparent  that  he  and  Morgan- 
stein  were  betting  on  the  side,  and  Marcia  remonstrated. 
"  It  isn't  that  we  are  scrupulous  alone,"  she  said,  "  but 
we  lose  inspiration  playing  second  fiddle." 


206       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Come  in  then,"  suggested  Frederic  and  explained  to 
the  lieutenant :  "  She  can  put  up  a  hundred  dollars  and 
lose  'em  like  a  soldier." 

"  The  money  stayed  in  the  family,"  she  said  quickly. 
"  Beatriz,  it  is  your  bid." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  was  calculating  the  possibilities  of  her 
hand.  Her  suit  was  diamonds ;  seven  in  sequence  from  the 
jack.  She  held  also  the  three  highest  in  clubs  and  the 
other  black  king.  She  was  weak  in  hearts.  "  I  bid  two 
diamonds,"  she  said  slowly,  "and,  Marcia,  it's  my  ruby 
against  your  check  for  three  hundred  dollars." 

There  was  a  flutter  of  surprise.  "  No,"  remonstrated 
Elizabeth  sharply.  "  No,  Marcia  can  buy  the  ring  for 
what  it  is  worth." 

"  Then  I  should  lose  the  chance  to  keep  it.  Three  hun- 
dred will  be  enough  to  lose."  And  she  added,  less  con- 
fidently :  "  But  if  you  should  win,  Marcia,  it  is  under- 
stood you  will  not  let  the  ring  go  out  of  your  hands." 

"  I  bear  witness,"  cried  the  lieutenant  gallantly,  "  and 
we  are  proud  to  play  second  when  a  Studevaris  leads." 

But  Morganstein  stared  at  her  in  open  admiration. 
''  You  thoroughbred !  "  he  said. 

"  It  shall  stay  in  the  family,"  confirmed  Marcia. 

Then  Frederic  bid  two  lilies,  the  lieutenant  passed  and 
Mrs.  Feversham  raised  to  three  hearts.  She  wavered,  and 
Tisdale  saw  the  cards  tremble  in  her  hand.  "  Four  dia- 
monds," she  said  at  last.  The  men  passed,  and  Marcia 
doubled.  Then  Morganstein  led  a  lily,  and  the  lieutenant 
spread  his  hand  on  the  table.  There  were  six  clubs;  in 
diamonds  a  single  trey. 

But  Mrs.  Weatherbee  was  radiant.  She  moved  a  little 
and  glanced  back  at  Elizabeth,  inviting  her  to  look  at  her 
hand.  She  might  as  well  have  said :  "  You  see,  I  have 
only  to  lead  out  trumps  and  establish  clubs." 

Marcia  played  a  diamond  on  her  partner's  second  lead 


"THESE  THINGS  WILL  I  GIVE"    207 

of  spades,  and  led  the  ace  of  hearts,  following  with  the 
king;  the  fourth  round  Frederic  trumped  over  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  and  led  another  lily.  Mrs.  Feversham  used 
her  second  diamond  and,  returning  with  a  heart,  saw  her 
partner  trump  again  over  Mrs.  Weatherbee.  It  was  mis- 
erable. They  gathered  in  the  book  before  the  lead  fell 
to  her.  The  next  deal  the  cards  deserted  her,  and  after 
that  the  lieutenant  blundered.  But  even  though  the  ruby 
was  inevitably  lost,  she  finished  the  rubber  pluckily ;  the 
flush  deepened  in  her  cheek;  the  blue  fires  flamed  in  her 
eyes.  "  You  thoroughbred  1 "  Morganstein  repeated 
thickly.     "  You  thoroughbred  1 " 

To  Tisdale  it  was  unendurable.  He  rose  and  crossed 
to  the  farther  side  of  the  desk.  The  Aquila,  rounding  the 
northern  end  of  Bainbridge  Island,  had  come  into  Agate 
Pass ;  the  tide  ran  swift  in  rips  and  eddies  between  close 
wooded  shores,  but  these  things  no  longer  caught  his  at- 
tention. The  scene  he  saw  was  the  one  he  had  put  behind 
him,  and  in  the  calcium  light  of  his  mind,  one  figure  stood 
out  clearly  from  the  rest.  Had  he  not  known  this  woman 
was  a  spendthrift?  Had  he  not  suspected  she  inherited 
this  vice  from  her  father,  that  old  gambler  of  the  stock 
exchange.  Was  it  not  for  this  reason  he  had  determined 
to  hold  that  last  half  interest  in  the  Aurora  mine?  Still, 
still,  she  had  not  shown  the  skill  of  long  practice ;  she  had 
not  played  with  ordinary  caution.  And  had  not  Eliza- 
beth remonstrated,  as  though  her  loss  was  inevitable? 
Every  one  had  been  undeniably  surprised.  Why,  then, 
had  she  done  this  ?  She  had  told  him  she  was  in  "  desper- 
ate need."  Could  this  have  been  the  alternative  to  which 
she  had  referred? 

The  Aquila's  whistle  blew,  and  she  came  around,  close 
under  a  bluff,  into  a  small  cove,  on  the  rim  of  which  rose 
the  new  villa.  The  group  behind  Tisdale  began  to  push 
back  chairs.     He  turned.     The  game  was  over,  and  Mrs. 


208      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Feversham  stood  moving  her  hand  slowly  to  catch  the 
changing  lights  of  the  ring  on  her  finger.  Then  she 
looked  at  the  loser.  "  It  seems  like  robbery,"  she  ex- 
claimed, '*  to  take  this  old  family  talisman  from  you, 
Beatriz.     I  shall  make  out  a  check  to  ease  my  conscience." 

"  Oh,  no."  She  lifted  her  head  bravely  like  his  Alaska 
flower  in  the  bitter  wind.  "  I  shall  not  accept  it.  My 
grandfather  believed  in  the  ruby  devoutly,"  she  went  on 
evenly.  "  It  was  his  birthstone.  And  since  it  is  yours 
too,  Marcia,  it  should  bring  you  better  fortune  than  it 
has  brought  me.  But  see !  The  villa  roof  is  finished  and 
stained  moss-green  as  it  should  be,  against  that  back- 
ground of  firs.  And  isn't  the  big  veranda  delightful,  with 
those  Venetian  blinds  ?  " 

The  yacht  nosed  alongside  the  little  stone  quay,  and 
preceded  by  the  host,  who  was  carried  ashore  in  his  chair, 
not  without  difficulty,  by  relays  of  his  crew,  the  party 
made  the  landing. 

Tisdale's  first  impression  when  he  stepped  over  the 
threshold  of  the  villa  was  of  magnitude.  A  great  fire- 
place built  of  granite  blocks  faced  the  hospitable  entrance, 
and  the  interior  lifted  to  the  beamed  roof,  with  a  gallery 
midway,  on  which  opened  the  upper  rooms.  The  stairs 
rose  easily  in  two  landings,  and  the  curving  balustrade 
formed  a  recess  in  which  was  constructed  a  stage.  Near 
this  a  pipe  organ  was  being  installed.  It  was  all  luxu- 
rious, created  for  entertainment  and  pleasure,  but  it  lacked 
the  ostentatious  element  for  which  he  was  prepared. 

It  had  been  understood  that  the  visit  was  made  at  this 
time  to  allow  Mrs.  Feversham  an  opportunity  *to  go 
through  the  house.  She  was  to  decide  on  certain  fur- 
nishings which  she  was  to  purchase  in  New  York,  but  it 
was  evident  to  Tisdale  that  the  items  she  listed  followed 
the  suggestions  of  the  woman  who  stood  beside  her, 
weighing  with  subdued  enthusiasm  the  possibilities  of  the 


"THESE  THINGS  WILL  I  GIVE"     209 

room.  "  Imagine  a  splendid  polar-bear  rug  here,"  she 
said,  "  with  a  yellowish  lynx  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
one  of  those  fine  Kodiak  skins  in  front  of  the  hearth. 
A  couch  there  in  the  chimney  corner,  with  a  Navajo 
blanket  and  pillows  would  be  color  enough." 

Morganstein,  watching  her  from  his  invalid  chair, 
grasped  the  idea  with  satisfaction.  "  Cut  out  those  Wil- 
ton carpets,  Marcia,"  he  said.  "  I'll  write  that  Alaska 
hunter,  Thompson,  who  heads  the  big-game  parties,  to 
send  me  half  a  dozen  bears.  They  mount  'em  all  right 
in  Seattle.  Now  see  what  we  are  going  to  need  in  that 
east  suite  up-stairs." 

They  went  trooping  up  the  staircase,  but  HoUis  did 
not  hurry  to  follow.  His  glance  mo-ved  to  the  heavy,  re- 
cumbent figure  of  his  host.  He  was  looking  up  across 
the  banisters  at  Mrs.  Weatherbee  as  she  ascended,  and 
something  in  his  sensuous  face,  the  steady  gleam  of  his 
round  black  eyes,  started  in  Tisdale's  mind  a  sudden 
suspicion.  She  stopped  to  look  down  from  the  gallery 
railing  and  smiled  with  a  gay  little  salute.  Then  Eliza- 
beth called,  and  she  disappeared  through  an  open  door. 

"  I'd  give  fifty  dollars  to  see  her  face  when  she  gets 
to  that  east  room,"  Morganstein  said  abruptly.  "  But  go 
up,  Mr.  Tisdale ;  go  up.     Needn't  bother  to  stay  with  me." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  to  see  here,"  Tisdale  responded 
genially.  "  A  man  who  is  accustomed  to  spend  his  time 
as  I  do,  gathering  accurate  detail,  is  slower  than  others, 
I  suppose,  and  this  all  seems  very  fine  to  me." 

"  It's  got  to  be  fine, —  the  finest  bungalow  on  Puget 
Sound,  I  keep  telling  the  architect.  Nothing  short  of  that 
will  do.  Listen !  "  he  added  in  a  smothered  voice,  "  she's 
in  there  now." 

The  vaulted  roof  carried  the  echoes  down  to  Tisdale 
as  he  went  up  the  stairs.  All  the  doors  were  open  along 
the  gallery ;  some  were  not  yet  hung,  but  he  walked  directly 


210      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  the  last  one  from  which  the  exclamations  of  surprise 
had  come.  And,  as  he  went,  he  heard  Mrs.  Weatherbee 
say:  "It  was  glorious,  like  this,  the  day  the  idea  flashed 
to  my  mind;  but  I  did  not  dream  Mr.  Morganstein  would 
alter  the  casement,  for  the  men  were  hanging  the  French 
windows.  Why,  it  must  have  been  necessary  to  change 
the  whole  wall.  Still,  it  was  worth  it,  Marcia,  was  it 
not?" 

"  It  certainly  is  unique,"  admitted  Mrs.  Feversham. 
Then  Tisdale  stopped  on  the  threshold,  facing  a  great 
window  of  plate  glass  in  a  single  pane,  designed  to  frame 
the  incomparable  view  of  Mount  Rainier  lifting  above  the 
sea.  And  it  was  no  longer  a  phantom  mountain ;  the  haze 
had  vanished,  and  the  great  peak  loomed  near,  sharply 
defined,  shining  in  Alpine  splendor. 

It  was  a  fine  conceit,  too  fine  to  have  sprung  from  Mor- 
ganstein's  materialistic  brain,  and  Tisdale  was  not  slow 
to  grasp  the  truth.  The  financier  had  reconstructed  the 
wall  to  carry  out  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  suggestion.  Then 
it  came  over  him  that  this  whole  building,  feature  by  fea- 
ture, had  been  created  to  win,  to  ensnare  this  woman.  It 
was  as  though  the  wall  had  become  a  scroll  on  which  was 
written :  "  '  All  these  things  will  I  give  thee,  .if  thou  wilt 
fall  down  ' —  and  marry  me." 

Suddenly  the  place  oppressed  him.  He  walked  through 
the  room  to  the  smaller  one  of  the  suite  and  out  on  a  broad 
sleeping-porch.  The  casement  was  nearly  waist  high,  and 
he  stood  grasping  the  ledge  and  looking  with  unseeing 
eyes  into  a  grove  of  firs.  So  this  was  the  alternative. 
And  this  was  why  Foster  was  safe.  The  young  mining 
engineer,  with  little  besides  his  pay,  had  fallen  far  short 
of  her  price. 

But  the  salt  wind  was  in  his  face ;  it  quieted  him.  He 
began  to  notice  the  many  small  intruding  influences  of  ap- 
proaching   night.     The    bough    of    a    resinous    hemlock, 


"THESE  THINGS  WILL  I  GIVE"     211 

soughing  gently,  touched  his  arm,  and  his  hold  on  the 
shingles  relaxed.  He  moved  to  rest  the  injured  hand  on 
the  casing,  and  its  throbbing  eased.  His  glance  singled 
out  clumps  of  changing  maple  or  dogwood  that  flamed 
like  small  fires  on  the  slope.  Then  he  caught  the  rhythm 
of  the  tide,  breaking  far  down  along  the  rocky  bulkhead ; 
and  above,  where  a  footbridge  spanned  a  chasm,  a  cascade 
rippled  in  harmony. 

"  Nice,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  the  lieutenant,  who  came  onto 
the  porch  with  Elizabeth. 

"  That  is  a  pergola  they  are  building  down  there,"  she 
explained.  "  It's  to  be  covered  with  Virginia  creeper  and 
wistaria  and  all  sorts  of  climbing  things.  And  French 
doors  open  into  it  from  the  dining-room.  A  walk  winds 
up  from  the  end  —  you  see  it,  Mr.  Tisdale.^^  —  across  the 
footbridge  to  a  pavilion  on  the  point.  It  is  almost  too 
dark  to  see  the  roof  among  the  trees.  Mrs.  Weatherbee 
calls  it  the  observatory,  because  we  have  such  a  long  sweep 
of  the  Sound  from  there,  north  and  south.  You'd  think 
you  were  aboard  a  ship  at  sea,  lieutenant,  in  stormy 
weather.     It  gets  every  wind  that  blows." 

The  lieutenant  wished  to  go  to  the  pavilion,  but  Tis- 
dale  excused  himself  from  joining  them,  and  was  left  alone 
again  with  his  thoughts.  Then  he  was  conscious  the  other 
women  had  remained  in  the  apartment.  They  had  come 
into  the  inner  room,  and  Mrs.  Feversham,  having  found 
an  electric  button,  flooded  the  interior  with  light.  On  the 
balcony  a  blue  bulb  glowed.  Tisdale  turned  a  little  more 
and,  leaning  on  the  casement,  waited  for  them  to  come 
through  the  open  door. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  furnishing  this  suite  in  bird's- 
eye  maple  ?  "  asked  Marcia.  "  With  rugs  and  portieres 
in  old  blue." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  shaded  her  dazzled  eyes  with  her  hand 
and   looked   critically    around.     "  The   maple   would   be 


212      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

lovely,"  she  said,  "  but  —  do  you  know,"  and  she  turned 
to  her  companion  with  an  engaging  smile,  "  these  sunrise 
rooms  seem  meant  for  Alaska  cedar  ?  And  the  rugs  should 
be  not  old  blue,  but  a  soft,  mossy  blue-green." 

Mrs.  Feversham  laughed.  "  Home  industry  again ! 
We  don't  go  to  New  York  for  Alaska  cedar.  But  you 
are  right ;  that  pale  yellow  wood  would  be  simply  charm- 
ing with  these  primrose  walls,  and  it  takes  a  wonderful 
polish.  That  leaves  me  only  the  rugs  and  hangings." 
She  turned  to  go  back  through  the  wide  doorway,  then 
stopped  to  say :  "  After  all,  Beatriz,  why  not  see  what  is 
to  be  had  in  Seattle.?  I  had  rather  you  selected  every- 
thing for  this  suite,  since  it  is  to  be  yours." 

"Mine.f^  "  She  paused,  steadying  her  voice,  then  went 
on  with  a  swift  breathlessness.  "  But  I  see,  you  mean  to 
use  when  I  visit  you  and  Elizabeth.  These  rooms,  from  the 
first,  have  been  my  choice.  But  I  am  afraid  I've  been 
officious.  I've  been  carried  away  by  all  this  beautiful 
architecture  and  the  pleasure  of  imagining  harmonious, 
expensive  furnishings.  I  never  have  fitted  a  complete 
house;  it's  years  since  I  had  a  home.  Then,  too,  you've 
spoiled  me  by  listening  to  my  suggestions.  You've  made 
me  believe  it  was  one  way  I  could  —  well  —  cancel  obliga- 
tions." 

Mrs.  Feversham  raised  her  hand  and,  turning  it  slowly, 
watched  the  play  of  light  on  the  ruby.  "  There  isn't  a 
stone  like  this  in  America,"  she  said.  "  You  don't  know 
how  I've  coveted  it.  But  you  need  not  have  worried, 
Beatriz.     I  disposed  of  your  note  to  Frederic." 

"To  Mr.  Morganstein?  "  Her  voice  broke  a  little; 
she  rocked  unsteadily  on  her  feet.  It  was  as  though  a 
great  wind  had  taken  her  unawares.  Then,  "  I  shall  try 
to  pay  him  as  soon  as  possible,"  she  said  evenly.  "  I 
have  the  land  at  Hesperides  Vale,  you  know,  and  if  I  do 
jxot  sell  it  sooB;  perhaps  he  will  take  it  for  the  debt," 


"THESE  THINGS  WILL  I  GIVE"     213 

Mrs.  Feversham  dropped  her  hand.  "  Beatriz !  Bea- 
triz !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  know  there's  an  easier  way. 
Come,  it's  time  to  stop  this  make-believe.  You  know 
Frederic  Morganstein  would  gladly  pay  your  debts,  every 
one.  You  know  he  is  building  this  villa  for  you ;  that  he 
would  marry  you,  now,  to-day,  if  you  would  say  the 
word.  Yet  you  hold  him  at  arm's-length ;  you  are  so  con- 
servative, so  scrupulous  about  Public  Opinion.  But  no 
one  in  Seattle  would  breathe  a  suggestion  of  blame.  And 
it  isn't  as  though  you  had  worn  first  mourning.  The 
wedding  could  be  very  quiet,  with  a  long  honeymoon  to 
Japan  or  Mexico;  both,  if  you  wished.  And  you  might 
come  home  to  open  this  house  with  a  reception  late  in  May. 
The  twilights  are  delightful  then.  Come,  think,  Bee! 
You've  been  irreproachable;  the  most  exacting  would  ad- 
mit that.  And  every  one  knows  David  Weatherbee  prac- 
tically deserted  you  for  years." 

Tisdale  saw  her  mouth  tremble.  The  quiver  ran  over 
her  face,  her  whole  body.  For  an  instant  her  lashes  fell, 
then  she  lifted  them  and  met  Marcia  Feversham's  calculat- 
ing look.  "  It  was  not  desertion,"  she  said.  "  He  con- 
tributed —  his  best  —  to  my  support.  I  took  all  he  had 
to  give.  If  ever  you  are  where  people  are  —  talking  — 
do  me  the  favor  to  correct  that  mistake.  And,  now,  if 
you  please,  Marcia,  we  will  not  bring  David  Weatherbee 
in  any  more." 

Mrs.  Feversham  laughed  a  little.  "  I  am  willing,  by- 
gones are  bygones,  only  listen  to  Frederic." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  too,  about  Mr.  McTrganstein's  mo- 
tive, Marcia.  He  built  this  house  for  all  his  friends  and 
Elizabeth's.  He  owes  her  something ;  she  has  always  been 
so  devoted  to  him."  And  she  added,  as  she  turned  to  go 
back  to  the  gallery,  "  He  knows  I  do  not  care  to  marry 
again." 

Tisdale  had  not  foreseen  the  personal  drift  to  the  con- 


214      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

versation.  And  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  he  was  un- 
observed ;  the  balcony  hght  was  directly  over  him,  and  he 
had  waited,  expecting  they  would  come  through  to  the 
porch,  to  speak  to  them.  Now  he  saw  that  from  where 
they  had  stopped  in  the  brilliant  interior,  his  figure  must 
have  blended  into  the  background  of  hemlock  boughs.  If 
they  had  given  him  any  thought,  they  had  believed  he  had 
gone  down  with  Elizabeth  and  the  lieutenant.  To  have 
apologized,  made  himself  known,  after  he  grasped  the 
significance  of  the  situation,  would  only  have  resulted  in 
embarrassment  to  them  all.  He  allowed  them  time  to 
reach  the  floor  below.  But  the  heat  rose  in  his  face.  And 
suddenly,  as  his  mind  ran  back  over  that  interview  in  the 
bows  of  the  Aquila,  his  question  in  regard  to  Foster 
seemed  gross.  Still,  still,  she  had  said  she  did  "  not  care 
to  marry  again."  That  one  fact  radiated  subconsciously 
through  the  puzzling  thoughts  that  baffled  him. 

Behind  him  a  few  splendid  chords  rolled  through  the 
hall  to  the  vaulted  roof,  then  pealed  forth  the  overture 
from  Martha.  That  had  been  Weatherbee's  favorite 
opera.  Sometimes  on  long  Arctic  nights,  when  they  were 
recalling  old  times  and  old  songs,  he  himself  had  taken 
Plunkett's  part  to  David's  Lionel.  He  could  see  that 
cabin  now,  the  door  set  wide,  while  their  voices  stormed 
the  white  silence  under  the  near  Yukon  stars.  His  eyes 
gathered  their  absent  expression.  It  was  as  though  he 
looked  beyond  the  park,  far  and  away  into  other  vast  soli- 
tudes; saw  once  more  the  cliffs  of  Nanatuk  looming 
through  fog  and  heard  clearly,  booming  across  the  ice, 
the  great,  familiar  baritone. 

The  notes  of  the  organ  ceased.  Tisdale  stirred  like  a 
man  roused  from  sleep.  He  turned  and  started  through 
to  the  gallery.  A  woman's  voice,  without  accompani- 
ment, was  singing  Martha's  immortal  aria.  The  Last  Rose 
of  Summer,     It  was  beautiful.     The  strains,  sweet  and 


"THESE  THINGS  WILL  I  GIVE"     215 

rich,  flooded  the  hall  and  pervaded  the  upper  rooms. 
Looking  down  from  the  railing,  he  saw  Elizabeth  and  the 
lieutenant  at  the  entrance  below.  The  men  who  had  in- 
stalled the  organ,  were  listening  too,  at  the  end  of  the 
hall,  while  beyond  the  open  door  the  crew  of  the  Aquila 
waited  to  carry  the  master  aboard.  As  he  reached  the 
top  of  the  stairs,  Mrs.  Feversham  appeared,  seated  near 
the  invalid  in  the  center  of  the  hall,  and  finally,  as  he  came 
to  the  first  landing,  there  was  the  diva  herself,  acknowledg- 
ing the  applause,  sweeping  backward  with  charming  ex- 
aggeration from  the  front  of  the  stage. 

"  Bravo  !  "  shouted  Frederic.  "  Bravo  !  Encore !  " 
She  took  the  vacant  seat  at  the  organ,  and  the  great 
notes  of  the  Goodr-night  chorus  rolled  to  the  rafters. 
Responding  to  her  nodding  invitation,  the  voices  of  the 
audience  joined  her  own.  It  was  inspiring.  Tisdale 
stopped  on  the  landing  and  involuntarily  he  caught  up  his 
old  part. 

"  Tho'  no  prayer  of  mine  can  move  thee 
Yet  I  wish  thee  sweet  good  night ; 
Now  good  night,  good  night,  good  night ! " 

She  looked  up  in  quick  surprise;  her  hands  stumbled 
a  little  on  the  keys  and,  singing  on,  she  subdued  her  voice 
to  listen  to  his.  Then,  hesitating  a  little  over  the  first 
chords,  she  began  the  final  prelude,  and  Tisdale,  waiting, 
heard  her  voice  waver  and  float  out  soft  and  full : 

"  Ah,  will  Heaven  indeed  forgive  me." 

Her  face  was  still  lifted  to  him.  It  was  as  though  her 
soul  rose  in  direct  appeal  to  him,  and  in  that  moment  all 
his  great  heart  went  down  to  her  in  response. 

It  was  over.  Morganstein's  heavy  "  Bravo !  "  broke 
the  silence,  followed  by  the  enthusiastic  clapping  of  hands. 


216      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  rose  and  started  down  the  hall  to  join 
Elizabeth  and  the  lieutenant,  but  Marcia  detained  her. 
"  It  was  simply  grand,"  she  said.  "  I  hadn't  believed 
you  had  the  reach  or  the  strength  of  touch.  This  organ 
was  certainly  a  fine  innovation," 

"  Sure,"  said  Frederic  hazily.  "  It  will  make  old  Seat- 
tle sit  up  and  take  notice.  Great  idea;  your  schemes  al- 
ways are.  Confess  though,  I  had  my  doubts,  when  it  came 
to  this  organ.  I  hedged  and  had  that  other  jog  built 
in  over  there  for  a  piano.  We  can  use  it  sometimes  when 
we  want  to  rag." 

"  It  is  a  splendid  instrument ;  much  more  expensive  than 
I  thought  of,  I  am  afraid.  But,"  and  she  looked  back  at 
the  elaborate  array  of  pipes  with  the  exhilaration  showing 
in  her  face,  "  it's  like  giving  the  firs  and  the  sea  a  new 
voice." 

She  passed  on,  and  Frederic's  glance  followed  her,  puz- 
zled, but  with  a  blended  respect  and  admiration.  When 
she  went  out  with  Elizabeth  and  the  lieutenant,  he  called 
his  men  to  convey  him  to  the  yacht.  Marcia  walked  be- 
side him.  Night  had  fallen,  and  the  Aqmla  blazed  like 
a  fire  ship.  Her  lamps  sifted  the  shadows  and  threw  long, 
wavering  flames  on  the  tide.  Aft,  where  the  table  was 
spread,  for  the  convenience  of  the  host,  who  could  not 
hazard  the  companionway,  a  string  of  electric  lights  il- 
lumined the  deck.  Japanese  screens,  a  dropped  awning 
or  two,  tempered  the  breeze,  and  the  array  of  silver  and 
flowers,  and  long-stemmed  glasses,  promised  more  than  the 
informal  little  dinner  to  which  Mrs.  Feversham  had  re- 
ferred. 

She  stood  looking  the  table  critically  over,  while  the 
sailors  settled  the  invalid's  chair.  While  the  rest  of  the 
party  loitered  in  the  bow,  she  turned  to  brother.  '*  Has 
it  occurred  to  you,"  she  asked,  "  that  Beatriz  may  be  in- 
terested in  some  other  man  ?  " 


"THESE  THINGS  WILL  I  GIVE"     217 

"  No,"  answered  Frederic,  startled.  "  No.  Hadn't 
thought  of  that  —  unless  —  it's  Foster." 

"  I  don't  know ;  he  seems  the  most  possible,  if  there's 
any  one.  She  says  she  does  not  care  to  marry  again.  In 
any  case,  it  is  advisable  to  keep  him  in  Alaska.  You 
might  send  him  on  from  the  Iditarod  to  look  over  the 
Aurora  mine."  And  she  added  slowly :  "  Beatriz  Weath- 
erbee,  backed  by  the  Morganstein  money,  will  be  able  to 
carry  the  social  end  of  the  family  anywhere;  but  Beatriz 
Weatherbee,  holding  a  half  interest  in  one  of  the  best- 
paying  placers  in  Alaska  in  her  own  right  —  is  a  wife 
worth  straining  a  point  for." 

Frederic's  round  eyes  widened;  his  face  took  an  ex- 
pression of  childlike  goodness ;  it  was  the  mask  with  which 
he  habitually  covered  his  avarice.  Then  he  said :  "  I 
understood  HoUis  Tisdale  had  exclusive,  brass-bound, 
double-rivited  possession  of  the  Aurora." 

"  Hush,"  cautioned  Marcia,  "  they  are  coming."  And 
she  added,  in  a  still  lower  tone :  "  There  is  a  loose  rivet, 
but  contrive  to  marry  her  before  she  knows." 

That  dinner  covered  the  homeward  cruise,  and  from  the 
wharf  Tisdale  went  directly  to  his  rooms.  There  he  tele- 
phoned the  Rainier-Grand  hotel.  "  Give  me  John  Banks, 
please,"  he  said.  "  Yes,  I  mean  Lucky  Banks  of  Alaska." 
And,  after  an  interval,  "  Hello,  Banks  1  This  is  Tisdale 
talking.  I  want  you  to  come  up  to  my  rooms.  Yes, 
to-night.  I  am  starting  east  in  the  morning.  Thank  you. 
Good-by." 

He  put  up  the  receiver  and  brought  Weatherbee's  box 
from  the  safe  to  the  table  under  the  hanging  lamp. 
Seating  himself,  he  took  out  the  plan  of  the  project  and 
spread  it  before  him.  He  had  not  closed  the  lid,  and 
presently  his  eyes  fell  on  David's  watch.  He  lifted  it 
and,  hesitating  to  open  it,  sat  trying  to  recall  that  pic- 
ture in  the  lower  case.     He  wondered  how,  once  having 


218      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

seen  it,  even  in  firelight  and  starshine,  he  could  have  for- 
gotten it.  The  face  would  be  younger  of  course,  hardly 
more  than  a  promise  of  the  one  he  knew ;  still  there  would 
be  the  upward  curling  lashes,  the  suggestion  of  a  fault 
in  the  nose,  the  piquant  curve  of  the  short,  upper  lip,  and 
perhaps  that  pervading,  illusive  something  that  was  the 
secret  of  her  charm.  "  You  were  right,  David,  old  man," 
he  said  at  last,  "  it  was  a  face  to  fight  for,  wait  for.  And 
madam,  madam,  a  woman  with  a  face  like  yours  must  have 
had  some  capacity  for  loving." 

His  hand  was  on  the  spring,  but  he  did  not  press  it. 
A  noise  outside  in  the  corridor  arrested  him.  He  knew  it 
was  too  soon  for  Banks  to  arrive,  but  he  laid  the  watch 
back  in  the  box  and  closed  the  lid.  ''  You  will  never 
marry  Frederic  Morganstein,"  he  said,  and  rising,  began 
to  walk  the  floor.  "  It  would  be  monstrous.  You  must 
not.     You  will  not.     I  shall  not  let  you." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    OPTION 

\  7IVIAN  COURT  stood  on  the  first  hill.  The  brick 
V  walls  of  the  business  center  filled  the  levels  below,  and 
Mrs.  Weatherbee's  windows,  like  Tisdale's,  commanded  the 
inner  harbor  rimmed  by  Duwamish  Head,  with  a  broader 
sweep  of  the  Sound  beyond  framed  in  wooded  islands  and 
the  snow-peaks  of  the  Olympic  Peninsula.  Southeastward, 
from  her  alcove,  lifted  the  matchless,  solitary  crest  of 
Rainier.  It  was  the  morning  following  the  cruise  on  the 
Aquila,  and  Mrs.  Weatherbee  was  taking  a  light  break- 
fast in  her  room.  The  small  table,  placed  near  an  open 
casement,  allowed  her  to  enjoy  both  views.  She  inhaled 
the  salt  breeze  with  the  gentle  pleasure  of  a  woman  whose 
sense  has  been  trained,  through  generations,  to  fine  and 
delicate  perfumes;  her  eyes  caught  the  sapphire  sparkle 
of  the  sea,  and  her  face  had  the  freshness  and  warmth  of 
a  very  young  girl's.  The  elbow  length  of  the  sleeve  ex- 
posed a  forearm  beautifully  molded,  with  the  velvety  firm- 
ness of  a  child's;  and  the  wistaria  shade  of  her  empire 
gown  intensified  the  blue  tones  in  the  dark  masses  of  her 
hair.  In  short,  she  stood  for  all  that  is  refined,  bright, 
charming  in  womanhood ;  and  not  for  any  single  type,  but 
a  blending  of  the  best  in  several ;  the  "  typical  American 
beauty  "  that  Miles  Feversham  had  named  her. 

Her  glance  moved  slowly  among  the  shipping.  The 
great  steamship  leaving  the  Great  Northern  docks  was 
the  splendid  liner  Minnesota,  sailing  for  Japan;  the  out- 
bound freighter,  laden  to  the  gunwales  and  carrying  a 


220      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

deckload  of  lumber,  was  destined  for  Prince  William 
Sound.  She  represented  Morganstein  interests.  And 
when  her  eyes  moved  farther,  in  the  direction  of  the 
Yacht  Club,  there  again  was  the  AquUa,  the  largest  speck 
in  the  moored  fleet.  A  shadow  crossed  her  face.  She 
rose  and,  turning  from  the  windows,  stood  taking  an  in- 
ventory that  began  with  the  piano,  a  Steinway  mellowed 
by  age,  and  ended  at  a  quaint  desk  placed  against  the  op- 
posite wall.  It  was  very  old;  it  had  been  brought  in 
her  great-grandfather's  time  from  Spain,  and  the  carv- 
ing, Moorish  in  design,  had  often  roused  the  enthusiastic 
comment  of  her  friends.  Appraising  it,  her  brows  ruffled 
a  little;  the  short  upper  lip  met  the  lower  in  a  line  of 
resolve.  She  went  to  her  telephone  and  found  in  the  di- 
rectory the  number  of  a  dealer  in  curios.  But  as  she 
reached  for  the  receiver,  she  was  interrupted  by  a  knock 
and,  closing  the  book  hastily,  put  it  down  to  open  the 
door. 

A  bell-boy  stood  holding  a  rare  scarlet  azalea  in  full 
flower.  In  its  jardiniere  of  Satsuma  ware  it  was  all  his 
arms  could  compass,  and  a  second  boy  followed  with  the 
costly  Japanese  stand  that  accompanied  it.  There  was 
no  need  to  read  the  name  on  the  card  tied  conspicuously 
among  the  stiffs  leaves.  The  gift  was  from  Frederic  Mor- 
ganstein. It  had  arrived,  doubtless,  on  an  Oriental 
steamer  that  had  docked  the  previous  evening  while  the 
Aquila  made  her  landing.  Mrs.  Weatherbee  had  the  plant 
placed  where  the  sunshine  reached  it  through  the  window 
of  the  alcove,  and  it  made  a  gay  showing  against  the  sub- 
dued gray  of  the  walls.  Involuntarily  her  glance  moved 
from  it  to  the  harbor,  seeking  the  Minnesota^  now  under 
full  headway  off^  Magnolia  Bluffs.  It  was  as  though,  in 
that  moment,  her  imagination  out-traveled  the  powerful 
liner,  and  she  saw  before  her  that  alluring  country  set  on 
the  farther  rim  of  the  Pacific. 


THE  OPTION  221 

The  steamship  passed  from  sight ;  she  turned  from  the 
window.  The  boy  had  taken  away  the  breakfast  tray  and 
had  left  a  box  on  the  table.  It  was  modest,  violet-colored, 
with  Hollywood  Gardens  stamped  on  the  cover,  but  she 
hurried  with  an  incredulous  expectancy  to  open  it.  For 
an  instant  the  perfume  seemed  to  envelop  her,  then  she 
lifted  the  green  waxed  paper,  and  a  soft  radiance  shone 
in  her  face.  It  was  only  a  corsage  bouquet,  but  the  violets, 
arranged  with  a  few  fronds  of  maidenhair,  were  delight- 
fully fresh.  She  took  them  out  carefully.  For  a  moment 
she  held  them  to  her  cheek.  But  she  did  not  fasten  them 
on  her  gown ;  instead  she  filled  a  cut-glass  bowl  with  water 
and  set  them  at  the  open  casement  in  the  shade.  A  cloud 
of  city  smoke,  driving  low,  obscured  the  AquUa;  the 
freighter  bound  for  Prince  William  Sound  rounded  Mag- 
nolia BlufF,  but  clearly  she  had  forgotten  these  interests; 
she  stood  looking  the  other  way,  through  the  southeast 
window,  where  Rainier  rose  in  solitary  splendor.  A  sub- 
dued exhilaration  possessed  her.  Did  she  not  in  imagina- 
tion travel  back  over  the  Cascades  to  that  road  to  Wenat- 
chee,  where,  rising  to  the  divide,  they  had  come  unex- 
pectedly on  that  far  view  of  the  one  mo-untain?  Then  her 
glance  fell  again  to  the  violets,  and  she  lifted  the  bowl, 
leaning  her  cheek,  her  forehead,  to  feel  the  touch  of  the 
cool  petals  and  inhale  their  fragrance. 

She  had  not  looked  for  Tisdale's  card,  but  presently,  in 
disposing  of  the  florist's  box,  she  found  it  tucked  in  the 
folds  of  waxed  paper.  He  had  written  across  it,  not 
very  legibly,  with  his  left  hand, 

"  I  want  to  beg  your  pardon  for  that  mistake  I  made. 
I  know  you  never  will  put  any  man  in  David  Weather- 
bee's  place.  You  are  going  to  think  too  much  of  him. 
When  you  are  ready  to  make  his  project  your  life  work, 
let  me  know." 

She  was  a  long  time  reading  the  note,  going  back  to 


222       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  beginning  more  than  once  to  reconsider  his  meaning. 
And  her  exhilaration  died;  the  weariness  that  made  her 
suddenly  older  settled  over  her  face.  At  last  she  tore  the 
card  slowly  in  pieces  and  dropped  it  in  the  box. 

Her  telephone  rang,  and  she  went  over  and  took  down 
the  receiver.  "  Mrs.  Weatherbee,"  she  said,  and  after  a 
moment.     "  Yes.     Please  send  him  up." 

The  bell-boy  had  left  the  door  ajar,  and  she  heard  the 
elevator  when  it  stopped  at  her  floor ;  a  quick,  nervous  step 
sounded  along  the  corridor,  the  door  swung  wider  to  some 
draught,  and  a  short,  wiry  man,  with  a  weather-beaten 
face,  paused  on  the  threshold.  "  I  am  Lucky  Banks," 
he  said  simply,  taking  off  his  hat.  "  Mr.  Tisdale  asked 
me  to  see  you  got  this  bundle." 

Involuntarily  her  glance  rested  on  the  hand  that  held 
the  package  in  the  curve  of  his  arm,  and  she  suppressed  a 
shiver;  the  dread  that  the  young  and  physically  perfect 
always  betray  at  the  sight  of  deformity  sprang  to  her 
eyes.  "  Thank  you  for  troubling,"  she  said,  then,  hav- 
ing taken  the  bundle,  she  waited  to  close  the  door. 

But  Banks  was  in  no  hurry.  "  It  wasn't  any  trouble, 
my,  no,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  glad  of  the  chance.  It's  a 
little  bunch  of  stuff  that  was  Dave's.  And  likely  I'd 
have  come  up,  anyhow,"  he  added,  "  to  inquire  about  a 
tract  of  land  you  own  east  of  the  mountains.  I  heard 
you  talked  of  selling." 

Instantly  her  face  brightened.  "  Yes.  But  come  in, 
will  you  not?"  She  turned  and  placed  the  package  on 
the  table,  and  took  one  of  two  chairs  near  the  alcove. 
The  azalea  was  so  near  that  its  vivid  flowers  seemed  to  cast 
a  reflection  on  her  cheeks.  "  I  presume  you  mean  my 
tract  in  the  Wenatchee  Mountains  ?  "  she  went  on  engag- 
ingly.    "  A  few  miles  above  Hesperides  Vale." 

"Well,  yes."  Banks  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the 
other  chair  and  held  his  hat  so  as  to  conceal  the  maimed 


THE  OPTION  223 

hand.  "  I  didn't  know  you  had  but  one  piece.  It's  up 
among  the  benches  and  takes  in  a  kind  of  pocket.  It's  off 
the  hne  of  irrigation,  but  if  the  springs  turn  out  what  I 
expect,  it  ought  to  be  worth  sixty  dollars  an  acre.  And 
I  want  an  option  on  the  whole  tract  for  ten  thou- 
sand." 

"Ten  thousand  dollars?"  Her  voice  fluted  incredu- 
lously. "  But  I  am  afraid  I  don't  understand  exactly 
what  an  option  is.     Please  explain,  Mr.  Banks." 

"  Why,  it's  this  way.  I  pay  something  down,  say  about 
three  thousand,  and  you  agree  to  let  the  sale  rest  for  well, 
say  six  months,  while  I  prospect  the  ground  and  see  how 
it  is  likely  to  pan  out.  Afterwards,  if  I  fail  to  buy,  I 
naturally  forfeit  the  bonus  and  all  improvements." 

"  I  see,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  see.  But  —  you  know 
it  is  wild  land ;  you  have  been  over  the  ground  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  but  I  know  the  country,  and  I've  talked 
with  a  man  I  can  bank  on,  my,  yes." 

"  How  soon  " —  she  began,  then,  covering  her  eager- 
ness, said :  "  I  agree  to  your  option,  Mr.  Banks." 

He  laid  his  hat  on  the  floor  and  took  out  his  billhook, 
in  which  he  found  two  printed  blanks,  filled  according  to 
his  ^erms  and  ready  for  her  signature.  "  I  thought  likely 
we  could  close  the  deal  right  up,  ma'am,  so's  I  could  catch 
the  Wenatchee  train  this  afternoon.  Your  name  goes 
here  above  mine." 

She  took  the  paper  and  started  buoyantly  to  the  sec- 
retary, but  the  little  man  stopped  her.  "  Read  it  over, 
read  it  over,"  he  cautioned.  "  All  square,  isn't  it.?  And 
sign  this  duplicate,  too.  That's  right.  You're  quite 
a  business  woman." 

He  laughed  his  high,  mirthless  laugh,  and,  taking  a 
check  from  the  bill-book,  added  some  bright  gold  pieces 
which  he  stacked  on  the  table  carefully  beside  the  package 
he  had  brought.     "  There's  your  three  thousand,"  he  said. 


224      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  It's  out  of  a  little  bunch  of  dust  I  just  turned  in  at 
the  assay  office." 

"  Thank  you."  She  stood  waiting  while  he  folded  his 
duplicate  and  put  it  away,  but  he  did  not  rise  to  go,  and 
after  a  moment,  she  went  back  to  her  chair  by  the  scar- 
let azalea. 

"  They  are  doing  really  wonderful  things  in  the  Wenat- 
chee  Valley,"  she  said  graciously,  willing  to  make  con- 
versation in  consideration  of  that  little  pile  of  clean,  new 
coin  that  had  come  so  opportunely,  "  the  apples  are  mar- 
velous. But  " —  and  here  her  conscience  spoke  — "  you 
understand  this  tract  is  unreclaimed  desert  land ;  you  must 
do  everything." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  understand  that ;  but  what  interests 
me  most  in  that  pocket  is  that  it  belonged  to  David  Weath- 
erbee.  He  mapped  out  a  project  of  his  own  long  before 
anybody  dreamed  of  Hesperides  Vale.  He  told  me  all 
about  it ;  showed  me  the  plans.  That  piece  of  ground  got 
to  be  the  garden  spot  of  the  whole  earth  to  him;  and  I 
can't  stand  back  and  see  it  parcelled  out  to  strangers." 

He  paused.  The  color  deepened  a  little  in  her  face ;  she 
looked  away  through  the  west  window.  "  I  thought  an 
awful  lot  of  Dave,"  he  went  on.  "  I'd  ought  to.  Likely 
you  don't  know  it  —  he  wasn't  the  kind  to  talk  much 
about  himself  —  but  I  owe  my  life  to  him.  It  had  com- 
menced " —  he  held  up  the  crippled  hand  and  smiled  grimly 
— "  when  Dave  found  me  curled  up  under  the  snow,  but 
he  stayed,  in  the  teeth  of  a  blizzard,  to  see  me  through. 
And  afterwards  he  lost  time,  weeks  when  hours  counted, 
taking  care  of  me, —  operated  when  it  came  to  it,  like  a 
regular  doctor,  my,  yes.  And  when  I  got  to  crawling 
around  again,  I  found  he'd  made  me  his  partner." 

"  He  had  made  a  discovery,"  she  asked,  "  while  you  were 
ill?" 

"  Yes,  and  you  could  bank  on  Dave  it  was  a  good  one. 


THE  OPTION  225 

He  knew  the  gravel  every  time.  But  we  had  to  sell;  it 
was  the  men  who  bought  us  out  that  struck  it  rich.  You 
see,  Dave  had  heavy  bills  pressing  him  down  here  in  the 
States;  he  never  said  just  what  he  owed,  but  he  had  to 
have  the  money.  And,  my,  when  he  was  doing  the  bulk 
of  the  work,  I  couldn't  say  much.  It  was  so  the  next 
time  and  the  next.  We  never  could  keep  a  claim  long 
enough  for  the  real  clean-up.  So,  when  I  learned  to  use 
my  hand,  I  cut  loose  to  try  it  alone." 

He  halted  again,  but  she  waited  in  silence  with  her  face 
turned  to  the  harbor.  "  I  drifted  into  the  Iditarod  coun- 
try^" he  went  on,  "  and  was  among  the  first  to  make  a 
strike.  It  was  the  luckiest  move  I  ever  made,  but  I  wish 
now  I  had  stayed  by  Dave.  I  was  only  a  few  hundred 
miles  away,  but  I  never  thought  of  his  needing  me.  That 
was  the  trouble.  He  was  always  putting  some  other  man 
on  his  feet,  cheering  the  rest  along,  but  not  one  of  us  ever 
thought  of  offering  help  to  Dave  Weatherbee.  A  fine,  in- 
dependent fellow  like  him. 

"  But  I  sure  missed  him,"  he  said.  "  Many  a  time 
there  in  the  Iditarod  I  used  to  get  to  wishing  we  had  that 
voice  of  his  to  take  the  edge  off  of  things.  Why,  back 
on  the  Tanana  I've  seen  it  keep  a  whole  camp  heartened; 
and  after  he  picked  me  up  in  that  blizzard,  when  I  was  most 
done  for  and  couldn't  sleep,  it  seemed  like  his  singing 
about  kept  me  alive.  Sometimes  still  nights  I  can  hear 
those  tunes  yet.  He  knew  a  lot  of  'em,  but  there  was 
Carry  Me  Back  to  Old  Virginny,  and  Heart  Bowed 
Down,  and  You^ll  Remember  Me,  I  always  thought 
that  song  reminded  him  of  some  girl  down  here  in  the 
States.  He  never  told  me  so,  always  put  me  off  if  I  said 
a  word,  and  none  of  us  knew  he  was  married  then;  but 
when  he  got  to  singing  that  tune,  somehow  he  seemed  to 
forget  us  boys  and  the  camp  and  everything,  and  went 
trailing  off  after  his  voice,  looking  for  somebody   clear 


226      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

out  of  sight.  I  know  now,  since  I've  seen  you,  I  was 
likely  right." 

Still  she  was  silent.  But  she  moved  a  little  and  lifted 
her  hand  to  the  edge  of  the  Satsuma  j  ardiniere ;  her 
fingers  closed  on  it  in  a  tightening  grip ;  she  held  her  head 
high,  but  the  lashes  drooped  over  her  eyes.  Watching 
her,  the  miner's  seamed  face  worked.  After  a  moment  he 
said :  "  The  other  night  I  paid  seven  dollars  for  a  seat 
at  the  Metropolitan  just  to  hear  one  of  those  first-class 
singers  try  that  song.  The  scenery  was  all  right.  There 
were  the  boys  and  two  or  three  women  sitting  around  a 
camp-fire.  And  the  fiddles  got  the  tune  fine,  but  my,  my ! 
I  couldn't  understand  a  word.  Seemed  like  that  fellow 
was  talking  darn  Dago." 

At  this  she  lifted  her  eyes.  The  shadow  of  a  smile 
touched  her  mouth,  though  her  lashes  were  wet.  "  And 
he  was,  Mr.  Banks,"  she  said  brightly.  "  He  was.  I 
know,  because  I  was  there." 

Banks  picked  up  his  hat  and  rose  to  his  feet.  "  We 
were  all  mighty  proud  of  Dave,"  he  said.  ''  There  wasn't 
one  of  us  wouldn't  have  done  his  level  best  to  reach  him 
that  last  stampede ;  but  I'm  glad  the  chance  came  to  Hol- 
lis  Tisdale.  There  wasn't  another  man  in  Alaska  could 
have  done  what  he  did.  Yes,  I'm  mighty  glad  it  was  Tis- 
dale who  —  found  him."  He  paused,  holding  his  hat  over 
the  crippled  hand,  then  added :  "  I  suppose  you  never 
knew  what  it  means  to  be  cold." 

She  rose.  The  smile  had  left  her  lips,  and  she  stood 
looking  into  his  withered  face  with  wide  eyes.  "  I  mean  so 
cold  you  don't  care  what  happens.  So  cold  you  can  lie 
down  in  your  tracks,  in  a  sixty-mile-an-hour  blizzard  and 
go  to  sleep." 

"  No."  She  shivered,  and  her  voice  was  almost  a  whis- 
per.    "  I  am  afraid  not." 

"  Then  you  can't  begin  to  imagine  what  Tisdale  did. 


THE  OPTION  227 

You  can't  see  him  fighting  his  way  through  mountains, 
mushing  ahead  on  the  winter  trail,  breaking  road  for 
his  worn-out  huskies,  alone  day  after  day,  with  just  poor 
Dave  strapped  to  the  sled." 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  ears.  "  Please,  please  don't 
say  any  more,"  she  begged.     "  I  know  —  all  —  about  it." 

"  Even  about  the  wolves  ?  " 

She  dropped  her  hands,  bracing  herself  a  little  on  the 
table,  and  turned  her  face,  looking,  with  that  manner  of 
one  helplessly  trapped,  around  the  room. 

"  Even  about  the  wolves  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  No.     No,"  she  admitted  at  last. 

He  nodded.  "  I  thought  likely  not.  Hollis  never  told 
that.  It  goes  against  his  grain  to  be  made  much  of. 
He  and  Dave  was  cut  out  of  the  same  block.  But  last 
night  in  the  lobby  to  the  hotel,  I  happened  on  a  fellow 
that  met  him  in  the  pass  above  Seward.  There  were  four 
of  'em  mushing  through  to  some  mines  beyond  the  Susitna. 
It  was  snowing  like  blazes  when  they  heard  those  wolves, 
and  pretty  soon  Tisdale's  dogs  came  streaking  by  through 
the  smother.  Then  a  gun  fired.  It  kept  up,  with  just 
time  enough  between  shots  to  load,  until  they  came  up  to 
him.  He  had  stopped  where  a  kind  of  small  cave  was 
scooped  in  the  mountainside  and  put  the  sled  in  and 
turned  the  huskies  loose.  He  had  had  the  time,  too,  to  make 
a  fire  in  front  of  the  hole,  but  when  the  boys  got  there, 
his  wood  was  about  burned  out,  and  the  wolves  had  got 
Dave's  old  husky,  Jack.  He  had  done  his  best  to  help 
hold  off  the  pack.  There's  no  telling  how  many  Hollis 
killed;  you  see  the  rest  fell  on  'em  soon's  they  dropped. 
It  was  hell.  Nothing  but  hair  and  blood  and  bones 
churned  into  the  snow  far  as  you  could  see.  Excuse  me, 
ma'am;  I  guess  it  sounds  a  little  rough.  I'm  more  used 
to  talking  to  men,  my,  yes.  But  the  fellow  who  told  me 
said  Hollis  knew  well  enough  what  was  coming  at  the 


228       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

start,  when  he  heard  the  first  cry  of  the  pack.  He  had 
a  chance  to  make  a  roadhouse  below  the  pass.  Not  one 
man  in  a  thousand  would  have  stayed  by  that  sled." 

His  withered  face  worked  again.  He  moved  to  the  door. 
"  But  Dave  would  have  done  it."  His  voice  took  a  higher 
pitch.  "  Yes,  ma'am,  Dave  would  have  done  the  same 
for  HoUis  Tisdale.  They  was  a  team;  my,  yes."  He 
laughed  his  hard,  mirthless  laugh.  "  Well,  so  long,"  he 
said. 

She  did  not  answer.  Half-way  down  the  corridor 
Banks  looked  back  through  the  open  door.  She  had  not 
moved  from  the  place  where  he  had  left  her,  though  her 
face  was  turned  to  the  window.  A  little  farther  on,  while 
he  waited  for  the  elevator,  he  saw  she  had  taken  the 
package  he  had  brought  from  Tisdale.  She  stood  weigh- 
ing it,  undecided,  in  her  hands,  then  drew  out  the  table 
drawer  and  laid  it  in.  She  paused  another  instant  in  un- 
certainty and,  closing  the  drawer,  began  to  gather  up  the 
pieces  of  gold. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LUCKY    BANKS    AND    THE    PINK    CHIFFON 

ON  his  way  down  from  Vivian  Court,  the  mining  man's 
attention  was  caught  by  the  great  corner  show  win- 
dow at  Sedgewick- Wilson's,  and  instantly  out  of  the  dis- 
play of  handsome  evening  gowns  his  eyes  singled  a  danc- 
ing frock  of  pink  chiffon.  "  She  always  looked  pretty," 
he  told  himself,  "  but  when  she  wore  pink  —  my !  "  and  he 
turned  and  found  his  way  through  the  swinging  doors.  A 
little  later  the  elevator  had  left  him  at  the  second  floor. 
For  a  moment  the  mirrors  bewildered  him;  they  gave 
a  sense  of  vastness,  repeating  the  elegant  apartment  in 
every  direction,  and  whichever  way  he  glanced  there  was 
himself,  seated  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  his  square  shoes 
set  primly  on  the  thick  green  carpet,  his  hat  held  stiffly 
over  the  crippled  hand.  Then  an  imposing  young  woman 
sauntered  towards  him.  "  Well,"  she  said  severely, 
*'  what  can  I  show  you  ?  " 

Banks  drew  himself  a  little  stiffer.  "  A  dress,"  he  said 
abruptly  in  his  highest  key,  "  ready-made  and  pink." 

"What  size?" 

"  Why  " —  the  little  man  paused,  and  a  blush  that  was 
nearer  a  shadow  crossed  his  weather-worn  face  — "  let  me 
see.  She's  five  feet  seven  and  a  quarter,  in  her  shoes,  and 
I  judge  a  couple  of  inches  wider  through  the  shoulders 
than  you."  His  glance  moved  to  another  saleswoman, 
who  came  a  step  nearer  and  stood  listening,  frankly 
amused.     "  You  look  more  her  figure,"  he  added. 

"  Takes  a  thirty-eight."     The  first  saleswoman  brought 


230      THE  MM  OF  THE  DESERT 

out  a  simple  gown  of  pink  veiling  and  laid  it  on  the  rack 
before  Banks,  and  he  leaned  forward  and  took  a  fold  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  forefinger,  gravely  feeling  the  tex- 
ture. 

"  This  is  priced  at  twenty-five  dollars,"  she  said. 
"  How  does  that  suit  ?  " 

Banks  drew  himself  erect.  "  There's  one  down-stairs  in 
the  front  window  I  like  better,"  he  said. 

The  woman  looked  him  shrewdly  over.  He  had  put  his 
hat  down,  and  her  glance  rested  involuntarily  on  his 
maimed  hand.  "  That  pink  chiffon  is  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five,"  she  explained. 

"  I  can  stand  it ;  the  price  doesn't  cut  any  figure,  if 
it's  what  I  want."  He  paused,  nodding  a  little  aggres- 
sively and  tapping  the  carpet  with  one  square  foot. 
"  The  lady  it's  for  is  a  mighty  good  judge  of  cloth,  and  I 
want  you  to  show  me  the  best  you've  got." 

She  glanced  at  the  other  saleswoman,  but  she  had  turned 
her  back  —  her  shoulders  shook  —  and  she  hurried  to 
bring  out  a  duplicate  of  the  pink  chiffon,  which  she  ar- 
ranged carefully  on  the  rack.  Bank's  face  softened;  he 
reached  to  touch  it  with  a  sort  of  caress.  "  This  is  more 
like  it,"  he  said ;  then,  turning  to  the  second  girl,  "  but 
I  can  tell  better  if  you'll  put  it  on.  You  don't  seem  very 
busy,"  he  added  quickly,  "  and  I'll  pay  you  your  time." 

"  Why,  that's  all  right,"  she  answered  and  came  to  pick 
up  the  gown.     "  I'll  be  glad  to  ;  that's  what  I'm  here  for." 

She  disappeared,  laughing,  into  a  dressing-room,  and 
presently  the  first  saleswoman  excused  herself  to  wait  on 
new  customers.  The  girl  came  back  transformed.  She 
had  a  handsome  brunette  face,  with  merry  dark  eyes  and  a 
great  deal  of  black  hair  arranged  in  an  elaborate  and 
striking  coiffure.  "  Isn't  it  swell  ?  "  she  asked,  walking 
leisurely  before  him.  ''  But  you'll  have  to  fasten  it  for 
her;  it  hooks  in  the  back."     Then  she  stopped;  the  fun 


LUCKY  BANKS  281 

went  out  of  her  face ;  her  glance  had  fallen  to  his  crippled 
hand.  "  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  she  stammered.  "  Of  course 
she  can  manage  it  herself;  we  all  have  to  sometimes." 

But  the  little  man  was  rapt  in  the  gown.  "  I'll  take 
it !  "  he  said  tremulously.  "  It  suits  you  great,  but,  my ! 
She'll  be  a  sight." 

"  I'll  bet  she's  pretty,"  said  the  girl,  still  trying  to 
make  amends.  "  I'd  like  to  see  her  in  this  chiffon.  And 
I  guess  your  party  will  be  swell." 

Banks  looked  troubled.  "  It  isn't  a  party ;  not  exactly. 
You  see  she's  been  away  from  town  quite  a  spell,  and  I 
thought  likely  she'd  be  a  little  short  on  clothes.  I  guess 
while  I'm  about  it  I  may  as  well  take  along  everything 
that  naturally  goes  with  this  dress ;  shoes  and  socks  and 
a  hat  and  —  flannels  — " 

He  paused  in  uncertainty,  for  the  girl  had  suddenly 
turned  her  back  again.  "  I'd  like  to  leave  the  rest  to 
you,"  he  added.  "  Pick  out  the  best ;  the  whole  outfit 
straight  through." 

"  I'll  be  glad  to."  The  girl  turned  again,  controlling 
a  last  dimple.  "  You  are  the  thoughtfullest  man  I  ever 
saw  on  this  floor.  She's  in  luck;  but  I  guess  you  aren't 
married  —  yet." 

Banks  laughed  his  high,  strained  laugh  and  rose. 
"  No,"  he  answered  briskly,  "  no,  not  exactly.  But  I 
want  you  to  hurry  out  this  bill  of  goods  in  time  for  the 
four-ten  Great  Northern.  I  can't  go  without  it,  and  I'm 
counting  on  making  Wenatchee  to-night." 

"  Wenatchee  ?  "  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  Is  that  where 
you  expect  her  to  wear  this  chiff^on.?  Why,  it's  the  dust- 
iest place  under  the  sun.  Take  my  word  for  it ;  I  came 
from  there.  And,  see  here,  they  don't  give  big  parties 
there;  the  people  are  just  nice  and  friendly;  it's  a  small 
town.  If  I  were  you  I'd  choose  a  tan ;  a  veiling  gown,  like 
this  first  one  we  showed  you,  only  tan.     Then  you  could 


232      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

put  the  difference  in  price  into  a  coat ;  —  we  have  some 
smart  ones  in  tan, —  with  a  light  pongee  duster  to  slip 
over  it  all,  if  she's  driving  or  using  a  machine." 

Banks  nodded.  "  Sure,  tuck  them  all  in ;  but  this  pink 
dress  goes,  too,  and  see  it's  on  top.  Likely  they'll  go  best 
in  a  trunk.     Now,  if  you  will  give  me  the  bill  — " 

He  paused  to  take  out  his  poke,  but  the  girl  laughed. 
"  I  can't,"  she  said.  "  It  will  take  me  half  an  hour  to 
foot  it  all  up  after  I've  picked  out  the  things.  And  un- 
less you  give  me  a  limit,  I  won't  know  where  to  stop. 
Then  there's  the  hat.  I  never  would  dare  to  choose  that 
for  a  woman  I've  never  seen,  unless  she's  my  style." 

"  She  is,"  the  little  man  answered  gravely,  "  that's  why 
I  picked  you  out  when  I  first  come  in.  I  guess  maybe 
the  other  one  was  nice  all  right,  but  she  was  a  little  too 
dried-up  and  froze  to  do." 

"  Then  I  know  what  I'd  like  to  send ;  it's  a  hat  I  tried 
on  this  morning.  A  nice  taupe  —  that's  about  the  color 
of  that  sage-brush  country  over  there  and  won't  show 
the  dust  —  and  it's  trimmed  with  just  one  stunning  plume 
the  same  shade  and  a  wreath  of  the  tiniest  pink  French 
roses  set  under  the  velvet  brim.  It  looked  like  it  was 
made  for  me,  but  twelve  and  a  half  is  my  limit  and  it's 
twenty-five  dollars.  Maybe  you  don't  want  to  go  that 
high." 

Banks  untied  the  poke  and  poured  the  remaining  gold 
pieces  on  the  show-case;  then  he  found  a  pocket-book 
from  which  he  took  several  crisp  bills.  "  There's  three 
hundred,"  he  said  briefly,  "  and  another  ten  for  the  trunk. 
I  want  you  to  pick  out  a  nice  little  one  I  can  stow  in  the 
back  of  a  one-seated  automobile.  The  hat  and  this  pink 
dress  go  on  top;  and  be  sure  you  get  the  outfit  down  to 
that  four-ten  train.  Good-by,"  he  put  out  his  hand,  and 
a  gleam  of  warmth  touched  his  bleak  face.  "  I'm  glad  I 
met  you." 


LUCKY  BANKS  ^33 

"  And  so  am  I.  Good-by."  She  stopped  gathering  up 
the  money  long  enough  to  give  him  her  hand.  "  And  good 
luck,"  she  added. 

The  first  saleswoman,  again  at  leisure,  approached  and 
stood  looking  after  him  as  he  hurried  with  his  quick,  un- 
even steps  towards  the  elevator.  "Of  all  things!"  she 
exclaimed.  "  He  did  buy  that  pink  chiffon.  Who'd  ever 
have  thought  he  had  the  money  or  the  taste.  But  I  sup- 
pose he's  one  of  those  lucky  fellows  who've  struck  it  rich 
in  Alaska." 

The  other  young  woman  nodded.  "  His  gold  came  out 
of  one  of  those  pokes,  and  it's  fresh  from  the  mint.  But 
I  guess  he's  earned  all  he's  got,  every  cent.  I'll  bet  he's 
starved  and  froze;  suffered  ways  we  don't  know.  And 
he's  spending  it  on  a  girl.  I'd  like  to  see  her.  Maybe 
she's  the  cold-blooded  kind  that'll  snub  him  and  make  fun 
of  this  chiffon." 

She  turned  into  the  dressing-room,  and  it  was  then 
Banks  stopped  and  brought  out  the  loose  change  in  his 
pockets.  There  was  a  ten  dollar  piece,  to  which  he  added 
two  and  a  half  in  silver.  He  started  back  up  the  room, 
but  the  girl  had  disappeared,  and,  while  he  stood  hesi- 
tating, a  floor-walker  approached. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  something?  "  he  asked  politely. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Banks,  "  I  forgot  to  give  this  money 
to  the  young  lady  who  was  waiting  on  me.  She's  likely 
gone  to  take  off  a  pink  dress  I  bought.  But  she's  the  one 
with  lots  of  black  hair  and  pink  cheeks  and  a  real  nice 
smile;  you  couldn't  miss  her.  And  you  might  as  well 
give  her  this ;  tell  her  it's  the  other  twelve  and  a  half  to 
make  up  the  price  of  that  hat;  a  duplicate  of  the  one 
we  were  talking  about.     She'll  understand." 

He  called  these  final  words  over  his  shoulder,  for  the 
elevator  had  stopped,  and  he  hurried  to  catch  it.     Going 


234      THE  MM  OF  THE  DESERT 

down^  he  looked  at  his  watch ;  he  had  spent  an  hour  buy- 
ing that  dress.  But  on  the  lower  floor  he  noticed  a  tele- 
phone booth  and  saw  a  way  to  make  up  the  time. 
"  Hello  !  "  he  called,  pitching  his  voice  to  a  treble.  "  This 
is  Banks,  the  miner  you  was  trying  to  talk  into  buying 
that  little  red  car  last  week;  roadster  I  think  you  said 
'twas.  Well,  I  want  you  to  fire  up  and  run  down  to  the 
Rainier-Grand  quick  as  you  can." 

He  listened  a  moment,  then :  "  Yes,  likely  I'll  change 
my  mind,  if  I  get  so's  I  can  drive  her  all  right  by  three 
p.  M.  I'm  going  east  of  the  mountains,  and  if  I  buy 
I've  got  to  ship  her  on  the  four-ten  train  —  Yes,  I  mean 
the  little  one  with  a  seat  to  accommodate  two,  with  a  place 
to  carry  a  trunk  behind.  Now  get  busy  and  rush  her 
down.  I've  got  some  errands  to  do,  and  I  want  you  to 
hurry  me  around;  then  we'll  get  away  from  the  crowd 
out  on  the  boulevard  where  I  can  have  a  clear  track  to 
break  her  on." 

The  sale  was  made,  and  the  mining  man  must  have 
applied  himself  successfuUjr  to  his  lesson,  for  the  follow- 
ing morning,  when  the  red  car  spun  out  of  Wenatchee  and 
up  the  lifting  valley  road,  a  snug  steamer-trunk  was 
stowed  in  the  box  behind,  and  Banks  at  the  steering  gear 
was  traveling  alone.  To  be  sure  the  rising  curves  were 
made  in  sudden  spurts  and  jerks,  but  his  lack  of  skill  was 
reinforced  by  a  tireless  vigilance  gathered  through  break- 
ing days  of  driving  and  mushing  over  hazardous  trails. 
And  he  had  made  an  early  start ;  few  wayfarers  were  yet 
astir.  But  at  last,  high  up  where  the  track  doubled  the 
summit  of  a  slope  that  lifted  in  a  bluff  overhead,  and  on 
the  other  hand  dropped  precipitously  to  the  river,  the  lit- 
tle man  barely  averted  catastrophe.  The  driver  and  the 
vehicle  were  hidden  by  the  curve,  but  at  his  warning  honk, 
two  percherons  that  blocked  the  way  halted  and,  lunging 
at  his  repeated  note,  crowded  back  on  the  team  they  led. 


LUCKY  BANKS  235 

Then  a  woman's  voice  shrilled :     "  I've  got  the  heaviest 
load;  jou  give  me  right  of  way." 

Banks  sprang  out  and  ran  forward  past  the  horses. 
The  driver,  dressed  in  a  skirt  and  blouse  of  khaki,  was 
seated  on  a  load  of  lumber.  She  held  the  reins  high  in 
yellow-gauntleted  hands,  and  a  rope  of  loosened  red  hair 
hung  below  a  smart  campaign  hat.  "  I  can't  back,"  she 
exclaimed  aggressively.  "  You  got  to  give  me  right  of 
way." 

"Ain't  there  a  man  with  the  outfit?"  he  asked  uncer- 
tainly. 

"No,"  she  snapped.  "Do  I  look  like  I  need  one?" 
But  she  hurried  on  tremulously :  "  My  husband's  running 
the  mill  night  and  day,  and  Bryant,  down  the  valley,  had 
to  have  his  boxes  for  the  apple  crop.  He  said  send  the 
boards  down,  and  he'd  let  a  couple  of  his  Japs  knock  'em 
together.  So  I  thought  with  an  early  start  and  a  clear 
track,  I  could  drive.  But  you've  got  to  turn  out.  I've 
got  the  heavy  load." 

Banks  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  my  first  trip,"  he  said  dubiously,  "  and  I  ain't 
learned  to  back  her  only  enough  to  turn  'round;  and  it's 
too  narrow.  But  I  used  to  drive  pretty  good  seven  or 
eight  years  ago ;  and  I've  been  managing  a  dog  team  off  and 
on  ever  since.  Let  me  climb  up  there  and  back  your 
load." 

"  You  can't  do  it,"  she  cried.  "  It's  up-grade  and  a 
mean  curve,  and  that  nigh  leader,  for  a  first-class  draught 
horse,  has  the  cussedest  disposition  you  ever  saw.  You 
can't  back  him  short  of  a  gunshot  under  his  nose,  and  you 
got  to  get  that  buzz-wagon  of  yours  out  of  sight  before 
I  can  get  him  past." 

"  Then,"  said  Banks,  and  smiled  grimly,  "  I  guess  it's 
up  to  me  to  back."  He  started  to  return  to  the  machine 
but  paused  to  add  over  his  shoulder :     "  It's   all  right ; 


236      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

don't  you  be  scared.  No  matter  what  happens,  you  for- 
get it  and  drive  straight  ahead." 

But  destiny,  who  had  scourged  and  thwarted  the  little 
man  so  many  years,  was  in  a  humorous  mood  that  day. 
The  little  red  car  backed  down  from  the  bend  in  zigzag 
spurts,  grazing  the  bluff,  sheering  off  to  coast  the  river- 
ward  brink;  then,  in  the  final  instant,  when  the  machine 
failed  to  respond  to  the  lever  speedily  enough,  a  spur  of 
rock  jutting  beyond  the  roadway  eased  the  outer  wheel. 
It  rolled  up,  all  but  over,  while  the  next  tire  met  the  ob- 
struction and  caught.  Banks  laughed.  "  Hooray !  "  he 
piped.  "  Now  swing  the  corner,  lady !  All  circle  to  the 
left." 

"  Get  up ! "  the  driver  shrilled.  "  Get  up,  now,  Duke, 
you  imp ! "  And  the  leader,  balking  suspiciously  at  the 
explosive  machine,  felt  a  smart  touch  of  the  whip.  He 
plunged,  sidled  against  the  bluff  and  broke  by.  There 
was  barely  room  to  make  that  turn;  the  tailboard  of  the 
wagon,  grating,  left  a  long  blemish  on  the  bright  body  of 
the  car,  but  as  the  load  rolled  on  down  the  incline.  Banks 
churned  gayly  up  around  the  bend. 

In  less  than  an  hour  Hesperides  Vale  stretched  behind 
him,  and  the  bold  front  of  Cerberus  lifted  holding  the  gap. 
Tisdale  had  warned  him  of  the  barbed-wire  fence,  and 
while  he  cautiously  rounded  the  mountain,  his  old  misgiv- 
ing rose.  What  though  he  had  made  good;  what  though 
the  Iditarod  had  filled  his  poke  many  times  over,  the 
north  had  taken  heavy  toll.  He  had  left  his  youth  up 
there,  and  what  would  this  smart  little  automobile  count 
against  a  whole  right  hand?  And  this  trunkful  of  clothes 
—  what  would  it  weigh  against  a  good-sized  man?  Still, 
still,  though  she  might  have  taken  her  pick  of  'em  all, 
Annabel  had  never  married,  and  she  had  kept  his  goats. 
Then  he  remembered  Tisdale  had  said  that  she  too  had 
had  a  hard  fight,  and  the  years  must  have  changed  her. 


LUCKY  BANKS  287 

And  hadn't  she  herself  told  him,  in  that  letter  he  carried 
in  his  breast  pocket,  that  if  he  cared  to  come  and  see  the 
goats,  he  would  find  his  investment  was  turning  out  fine, 
but  he  needn't  expect  she  had  kept  her  own  good  looks? 

The  little  man  smiled  with  returning  confidence  and, 
lifting  his  glance,  saw  the  cabin  and  the  browsing  flock 
cut  off  by  the  barbed-wire  fence  from  the  road.  Then 
as  he  brought  the  car  to  a  stop,  the  collie  flew  barking 
against  the  wicket,  and  a  gaunt  woman  rose  from  a  rock 
and  stood  shading  her  eyes  from  the  morning  sun. 

He  sprang  down  and  spoke  to  the  dog,  and  instantly  his 
tone  quieted  the  collie,  but  the  woman  came  nearer  to  point 
at  the  sign.     "  You  better  read  that,"  she  threatened. 

His  hand  dropped  from  the  wicket,  and  he  stood  staring 
at  her  across  the  barbed  wire.  "  I  was  looking  for  a 
lady,"  he  said  slowly,  "but  I  guess  likely  I've  made  a 
mistake." 

She  came  another  step  and,  again  shading  her  eyes, 
stared  back.  A  look  half  eager,  half  wistful,  trembled 
for  a  moment  through  the  forbidding  tenseness  of  her  face. 
"  All  the  men  I've  seen  in  automobiles  up  here  were  look- 
ing for  land,"  she  replied  defiantly. 

He  nodded;  his  eyes  did  not  move  from  her  face,  but 
they  shone  like  two  chippings  of  blue  glacier  ice,  and  his 
voice  when  he  spoke  piped  its  sharpest  key.  "So  am  I. 
I've  got  an  option  on  a  pocket  somewheres  in  this  range, 
and  the  lady  I'm  inquiring  for  happened  to  homestead  the 
quarter  below.  It  sort  of  overlaps,  so's  she  put  her  im- 
provements on  the  wrong  edge.  Yes,  ma'am,  I've  likely 
made  a  mistake,  but,  you  see,  I  heard  she  had  a  bunch  o' 
goats." 

There  was  a  brief  silence  then.  "  Anyhow,  you  must 
o'  come  from  that  surveyor,"  she  said.  "  Maybe  he  was 
just  a  smooth  talker,  but  he  had  a  nice  face;  laughing 
crinkles  around  his  eyes  and  a  way  of  looking  at  you,  if 


238      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

you'd  done  a  mean  thing,  to  make  you  feel  like  the  scum  of 
the  earth.  But  he  happened  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
man  that  made  me  a  present  of  my  first  billy  and  ewes, 
and  you  —  favor  him  a  little."  She  paused,  then  went  on 
unsteadily,  while  her  eyes  continued  to  search  him.  "  He 
was  about  your  size,  but  he's  been  up  in  Alaska,  way  in 
the  interior  somewheres  for  years,  and  the  letter  I  wrote 
him  couldn't  have  reached  him  inside  a  month.  I  figured 
if  he  came  out,  he  would  just  about  catch  the  last  steamer 
in  October." 

"  So  he  would,  if  he  hadn't  come  down  to  Seattle  al- 
ready." He  stopped,  fumbling  with  the  pin,  and  threw 
open  the  wicket.  "  I  guess  I  ain't  changed  much  more'n 
you,  Annabel." 

The  woman  was  silent.  Her  chin  dropped;  her  glance 
sought  the  earth.  Then  Banks  turned  to  fasten  the  gate 
behind  him,  and  she  started  to  stalk  mechanically  up  the 
field  towards  the  cabin.  "  I  feel  all  broke  up,"  he  said, 
overtaking  her ;  "  like  I'd  been  struck  by  a  blizzard. 
Why,  there  was  a  girl  down  in  Seattle,  she  sold  me  a  bill 
of  goods  that  looked  more  like  you  than  you  do  yourself. 
I  know  I  got  myself  to  blame,  but  I  never  counted  for  a 
minute  on  your  keeping  the  goats." 

The  woman  stalked  on  a  little  faster,  but  she  could  not 
outstrip  the  prospector;  she  turned  her  face,  in  refuge, 
to  the  flock.  "  Goats,"  she  said  unsteadily,  "  goats  — 
are  all  right  when  you  get  used  to  'em.  They're  some- 
thing like  children,  I  guess ;  a  sight  of  trouble  but  good 
company  and  mighty  comforting  to  have  'round.  And 
they're  just  as  different.  There's  old  Dad,  the  cautious 
looking  one  standing  off  there  watching  us  and  chewing 
the  end  of  a  thistle.  It  might  as  well  be  a  toothpick,  and 
I'll  bet  he's  thinking :  '  You  can't  get  the  best  of  me,  no, 
sir.'  And  that  piece  of  wisdom  next  to  him  is  the  Profes- 
sor.    Don't  he  remind  you  of  the  old  schoolmaster  down 


LUCKY  BANKS  239 

at  the  Comers ?  And  there  goes  Johnny  Banks.  See  him? 
The  pert  little  fellow  chasing  up  the  field.  You  never 
can  tell  where  he'll  turn  up  or  what  he'll  do  next." 

She  laughed  a  dry,  forced  laugh,  and  Banks  echoed  it 
in  his  strained  key.  "  But  we  are  going  to  get  rid  of  'em. 
They're  a  fine  bunch  — you've  brought  'em  up  splendid, 
made  a  sight  better  showing  than  I  could  —  but  we  are 
going  to  get  rid  of  'em,  yes,  ma'am,  and  forget  'em  as 
quick's  we  can.  We  are  going  to  start  right  now  to  make 
up  those  seven  years." 

They  had  reached  the  cabin,  and  he  stopped  on  the 
threshold.  "  My,  my,"  he  said  softly,  "  don't  it  look 
homey?  There's  your  Dad's  old  chair,  and  the  dresser 
and  the  melodion.     I  was  'fraid  you'd  sold  that,  Annabel." 

"  I  could  have,  there's  been  plenty  of  chances,  but  Dad 
gave  it  to  me,  don't  you  remember?  the  Christmas  I  was 
sixteen." 

"  My,  yes,  and  you  opened  it  right  there,  under  the 
cherry  tree,  and  started  Home,  Sweet  Home,  I  can  hear 
it  now,  and  the  crowd  joining  in.  I'm  glad  you  kept  it, 
Annabel;  a  new  one  wouldn't  seem  just  the  same." 

"  It's  traveled  though.  You  ought  to  have  seen  me 
moving  from  Oregon.  The  old  delivery  wagon  was  heap- 
ing full."  Her  laugh  this  time  was  spontaneous.  "  And 
old  Kate  couldn't  make  more  than  ten  miles  a  day.  But 
I  had  a  good  tent,  and  when  she  had  done  her  day's  stunt, 
I  just  tied  her  out  to  feed  and  made  camp.  The  hardest 
was  keeping  track  of  the  goats,  but  the  flock  was  small 
then,  and  I  had  two  dogs." 

"  I  see,"  said  Banks.  "  You  kept  'em  ahead  of  the 
wagon  when  you  was  on  the  road  and  let  'em  forage  for 
themselves.  But  I'd  like  to  have  a  look  at  old  Kate. 
She  came  of  good  stock." 

Annabel  went  over  and,  seating  herself  in  her  father's 
chair,  untied  her  sunbonnet.     "  Kate  died,"  she  said.     "  I 


240      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

hired  her  out  to  a  man  down  the  valley,  and  he  worked  hei 
too  hard  in  the  heat." 

There  was  a  silent  moment.  She  took  off  the  bonnet 
and  laid  it  in  her  lap.  The  light,  streaming  through  a 
small  window,  touched  her  hair,  which  was  bound  in 
smooth,  thick  braids  around  her  head. 

"  My,  my,"  the  little  man  said,  "  ain't  it  a  sight  ?  I'd 
have  known  you  in  a  minute  without  that  bonnet  down  at 
the  gate.  My,  but  don't  it  make  a  difference  what  a 
woman  wears?  I'll  bet  I  can't  tell  you  from  the  girl  I 
left  in  Oregon  when  you've  changed  your  clothes." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  This  denim  is  all  I've  got,"  she 
said,  with  a  touch  of  defiance.  "  I  wore  out  all  I  had ; 
goats  are  hard  on  clothes." 

"  I  thought  likely."  His  bleak  face  began  to  glow. 
"  And  I  knew  you  was  out  of  town  away  from  the  stores, 
so's  I  brought  along  a  little  outfit.  You  wait  a  minute, 
and  I'll  fetch  it  right  in." 

He  was  gone  before  he  finished  speaking  and  returned 
in  an  incredibly  short  time  with  the  trunk,  which  he  de- 
posited on  the  floor  before  her.  Then  he  felt  in  his  pocket 
and,  finding  the  key,  fitted  it  and  lifted  the  lid.  It  was 
then,  for  the  first  time,  she  noticed  the  maimed  hand. 

"  Johnny ! "  she  cried,  and  the  pent  emotion  surged  in 
her  voice.     "  Johnny,  you've  been  —  hurt." 

"  Oh,  that  don't  amount  to  anything  now,  only  the 
looks.     I  can  turn  out  just  as  much  work." 

He  hurried  to  open  the  tray,  but  before  he  could  remove 
the  packing  of  tissue  paper  that  enveloped*  the  hat,  she 
reached  and  took  the  crippled  hand  between  her  own. 
Her  fingers  fluttered,  caressing,  while  with  maternal  pro- 
tectiveness  they  covered  it,  and  she  drew  him  back  to  the 
broad  arm  of  her  chair.  The  defiance  had  gone  out  of 
her  face ;  her  eyes  were  misty  and  tender.  "  You  tell  me 
what  happened,"  she  said. 


LUCKY  BANKS  241 

So  came  Lucky  Banks'  hour.  He  saw  this  woman  who 
had  been  fond  of  pretty  clothes,  who  had  once  worn 
them  but  was  now  reduced  to  a  single  frock  of  coarse 
denim,  turn  from  the  fine  outfit  before  it  was  even  dis- 
played; waiting,  with  a  wondrously  comforting  solicitude 
he  never  had  suspected  in  the  girl  whom  he  had  left  in 
Oregon,  to  hear  first  that  miserable  story  of  the  trail. 
He  told  it  briefly,  but  with  the  vividness  of  one  whose 
words  are  coined  straight  from  the  crucible  of  bitter  ex- 
perience, and  while  she  listened,  her  heart  shone  in  her 
passionate  eyes.  "  What  if  it  had  happened,"  she  broke 
out  at  last.  "  If  it  had,  Johnny,  it  would  have  been  my 
fault.  I  drove  you  into  going  up  there.  I'm  responsible 
for  this  hand.  I  —  I  couldn't  have  stood  worse  than 
that." 

The  little  man  beamed.  "  Is  that  so,  Annabel.?  Then 
I'm  mighty  glad  Weatherbee  followed  that  stampede. 
Nobody  else  would  have  seen  my  hand  sticking  up  through 
the  snow  and  stopped  to  dig  me  out.  Unless  — "  he  added 
thoughtfully,  "  it  was  Hollis  Tisdale.  Yes,  likely  Hol- 
lis  would.  He  was  the  only  man  in  Alaska  fit  to  be  Dave's 
running  mate." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  surveyor.?  "  she  asked. 

Banks  nodded. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  said  with  satisfaction.  "  Dad 
taught  me  to  size  people  up  on  sight.  He  could  tell 
the  first  minute  he  saw  a  man's  face  whether  he  was  good 
for  a  bill  of  groceries  or  not ;  and  I  knew  that  surveyor 
was  straight.  I  bet  he  knew  you  was  in  Seattle  when  he 
got  me  to  write.  But  I  wish  I  could  have  a  look  at  the 
other  one.     He  must  be  —  great." 

Banks  nodded  again.  "  He  was,"  he  answered  huskily. 
"  He  was.  But  he's  made  his  last  trip.  I  wasn't  three 
hundred  miles  off,  but  I  never  thought  of  Dave  Weather- 
bee's  needing  help;  it  took  Tisdale,  clear  off  in  Nome, 


242      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

over  a  thousand  miles,  to  sense  something  was  wrong. 
But  he  started  to  mush  it,  alone  with  his  huskies,  to  the 
Iditarod  and  on  to  the  Aurora,  Dave's  mine.  You  don't 
know  anything  about  that  winter  trail,  Annabel.  It 
means  from  twenty  to  fifty  below,  with  the  wind  swooping 
out  of  every  canyon,  cross-cutting  like  knives,  and  not  the 
sign  of  a  road-house  in  days,  in  weeks  sometimes.  But 
he  made  it," —  Banks'  voice  reached  high  pitch  — "  He 
beat  the  records,  my,  yes." 

"And  something  was  wrong?"  asked  Annabel,  break- 
ing the  pause. 

Banks  nodded  again.  "  You  remember  that  sheepman 
do^  in  Oregon  they  brought  in  from  the  range.  The 
one  that  ripped  up  his  comforter  that  night  at  the  hotel 
and  set  the  wool  in  little  rolls  around  the  floor;  thought 
he  was  tending  sheep?  Well,  that's  what  was  happening. 
And  HoUis  was  two  days  late.  Dave  had  started  for  the 
coast;  not  the  regular  way  to  Fairbanks  and  out  by 
stage  to  Valdez,  but  a  new  route  through  the  Alaska 
Range  to  strike  the  Susitna  and  on  to  Seward.  And  he 
had  fresh  dogs.  He  was  through  Rainy  Pass  when  Tis- 
dale  began  to  catch  up." 

"  He  did  catch  up  ?  "  Annabel  questioned  again  hur- 
riedly. 

Banks  nodded  once  more.  He  drew  his  hand  away  and 
rose  from  his  seat  on  the  chair  arm.  His  eyes  were  shin- 
ing like  blue  glacier  ice.  "  It  was  in  a  blizzard ;  the  same 
as  the  day  I  lost  my  fingers  —  only  —  Hollis  —  he  was 
too  late."  He  turned  and  walked  unsteadily  to  the  door 
and  stood  looking  out.  "  I  wasn't  three  hundred  miles 
from  the  Aurora,"  he  added.  "  I  could  have  been  in 
time.     I  can't  ever  forget  that." 

Annabel  rose  and  stood  watching  him,  with  the  emotion 
playing  in  her  face.  "  Johnny  [  "  she  exclaimed  at  last. 
"  Oh,  Johnny  1 "     She  went  over  and  put  her  arm  pro- 


LUCKY  BANKS  243 

tectively  around  his  shoulders.  "  I  know  just  how  you 
feel;  but  you  didn't  drive  him  to  it.  You  were  just  busy 
and  interested  in  your  work.  You'd  have  gone  in  a  min- 
ute, left  everything,  if  you  had  known." 

"  That's  it ;  I  ought  to  have  known.  I  ought  to  have 
kept  track  of  Dave ;  run  over  once  in  a  while  to  say  hullo. 
I'd  have  likely  seen  it  was  coming  on,  then,  in  time. 
When  Tisdale  found  him,  he'd  been  setting  out  little  pieces 
of  spruce,  like  an  orchard  in  the  snow.  You  see,"  he 
added  after  a  moment,  "  Dave  always  expected  to  come 
back  here  when  he  struck  it  rich  and  start  a  fruit  ranch. 
He  was  the  man  who  owned  this  pocket." 

A  sudden  understanding  shone  in  Annabel's  face. 
"  And  that's  why  you  got  an  option  on  it ;  you  want  to 
carry  out  his  scheme.  I'll  help  you,  Johnny,  I'll  do  my 
level  best." 

Banks  turned  and  looked  at  her.  "  That's  all  I  want, 
Annabel.  I  was  a  little  afraid  you'd  be  sick  of  the 
place.  But,  my,  we  can  go  right  ahead  and  set  a  crew  of 
men  to  grubbing  out  the  sage  on  both  sections  to  once. 
Folks  might  have  said,  seeing  you  take  up  with  a  un- 
dersized, froze-up  fellow  like  me,  you  was  marrying  me 
for  my  money;  but  they  can't,  no,  ma'am,  not  when  they 
see  the  valuable  claim  you  are  developing  in  your  own 
right." 

Annabel  laughed.  "  I  guess  you're  entitled  to  your 
turn  making  fun  of  me.  But  have  you  got  money, 
Johnny.?     I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  Likely  not.  But  the  Annabel  sure  brought  me  luck ; 
that  name  worked  better  than  a  rabbit's  foot.  Here's  a 
little  bunch  of  nuggets  I  saved  out  of  the  first  clean-up." 
He  paused  to  take  a  small  new  poke  from  an  inner  pocket 
and,  untying  the  string,  poured  the  contents  in  her  hand. 
"  I  thought  likely  you'd  want  'em  made  up  in  a  necklace 
with  a  few  diamonds  or  mebbe  emeralds  mixed  in." 


244       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  stood  looking  at  the  shining  rough  pieces  of  gold 
in  her  palm,  while  a  certain  pride  rose  through  the  won- 
der in  her  face.  "  M j  gracious !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  a 
spark  of  her  lost  youth  revived.  "  My  gracious.  And 
you  named  your  mine  after  me.  I  bet  it  was  on  account 
of  that  billy  and  the  ewes." 

"  Likely,"  the  little  man  beamed.  "  But  more  than 
likely  it  was  because  that  strike  was  a  sure  thing,  and  you 
was  behind  it,  Annabel.  My,  yes,  you  was  responsible  I 
ever  got  to  Alaska;  let  alone  stuck  it  out.  Sure  as  a 
grubstake,  you  gave  me  my  start.  Now  come  take  a  look 
at  this  outfit  I  brought." 

He  held  the  poke  open  while  she  poured  the  nuggets 
back.  "  I  like  them  plain,"  she  said,  "  but  I  never  saw 
any  made  up.     I  leave  it  to  you." 

"  Then  I  make  it  emeralds  to  match  the  Green,  and 
mebbe  a  few  sparklers  thrown  in."  He  laughed  gayly  and, 
taking  her  arm,  drew  her  back  across  the  room  to  the  open 
trunk ;  when  she  was  seated  again  in  the  armchair,  he 
knelt  to  remove  the  first  layer  of  tissue  packing.  She 
took  the  precaution  to  spread  one  smooth  sheet  of  it  on 
her  lap  and,  leaning  forward,  saw  him  uncover  the  plume, 
the  entire  hat.  "  Gracious  goodness ! "  she  exclaimed 
tremulously,  as  he  lifted  it  awkwardly  to  her  eager  hands, 
"  ain't  it  splendid  ?  I  didn't  know  they  were  making  them 
like  this.  I  never  saw  such  roses;  why,  they  look  alive 
and  ready  to  smell;  and  ain't  they  pretty  fixed  this  way 
under  the  brim  ?  "  She  paused,  turning  the  masterpiece 
slowly,  like  a  connoisseur.  "  I  bet  I  could  have  worn  it 
when  I  was  in  Oregon.  It  would  have  been  my  style. 
Do  you  suppose  " —  she  glanced  at  Banks  timidly  — "  I'd 
dare  to  try  it  if  my  hair  was  done  real  nice,  and  I  had  on 
a  better  dress?  " 

"  My,  yes."  Banks  laughed  again  excitedly,  and  with 
growing  confidence  opened  the  next  compartment  to  display 


LUCKY  BANKS  245 

the  chiffon  gown.  "  Wait  till  you  get  this  on.  You'll 
be  a  sight.  You  always  was  in  pink."  He  paused  to 
take  the  hat  and,  wheeling,  placed  it  on  the  old  dresser, 
and  so  made  room  for  the  frock  on  her  lap.  "  Now,  ain't 
that  soft  and  peachy  and  —  and  rich  ^  " 

But  Annabel  was  silent.  She  lifted  her  eyes  from  the 
gown  to  Johnny,  and  they  were  full  of  mist.  Then  her 
lip  quivered,  and  a  drop  splashed  down  on  the  delicate 
fabric.  "  My  gracious !  "  she  cried  in  consternation  and, 
rising,  held  the  gown  off  at  arm's-length.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose it's  going  to  spot  ?  " 

And  Banks'  laugh  piped  once  more.  "  I  guess  it  can 
stand  a  little  salt  water,"  he  replied.  "  But  if  it  can't, 
we  can  get  a  duplicate.  And  now  you  just  take  your 
time  and  pick  out  what  you  want  to  wear.  I  am  going 
up  the  bench  to  look  around  and  find  Dave's  springs. 
It'll  likely  take  me  an  hour  or  so,  and  you  can  be  ready 
to  start  soon's  I  get  back." 

"  Start  ^  "  she  repeated.  "  Was  you  counting  on  go- 
ing somewhere  ?  " 

"  My,  yes.  I  was  counting  on  taking  you  a  little  spin 
down  to  Wenatchee  the  first  thing,  and  having  a  chicken 
dinner  to  the  hotel.  Then,  soon's  we  get  a  license  and 
hunt  up  a  sky  man,  we  are  going  to  run  down  to  Ore- 
gon and  have  a  look  at  the  old  Comers." 

"  I  never  rode  in  an  automobile,"  she  said,  glowing, 
"  but  I  think  I'd  like  it  fine." 

"  I  bet  you  will.  I  bet,  coming  home,  you'll  be  running 
the  machine  yourself  half  the  time." 

He  hurried  away  then,  laughing  his  shrillest  key,  and 
Annabel  laid  the  pink  chiff^on  back  in  the  tray  to  follow 
him  to  the  door.  She  stood  smiling,  though  the  mist  al- 
ternately gathered  and  cleared  in  her  eyes,  watching  him 
up  the  vale  and  waiting  to  see  him  reappear  on  the  front 
of  the  bench.     But  he  found  her  ready  when  he  returned ; 


246      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  the  hat  was  becoming  beyond  her  hopes.  It  brought 
back  in  a  measure  the  old  brightness  that  was  half  a 
challenge  in  her  air,  so  that,  to  the  mining  man,  she 
seemed  to  have  gone  back,  almost,  those  lost  years.  Still, 
his  satisfaction  was  tempered,  and  instantly  she  under- 
stood the  cause.  "  The  roses  seemed  enough  pink  to- 
day," she  said  tactfully,  "  till  I  wear  off  some  of  this  tan. 
But  I  like  this  tan  cloth  awful  well,  don't  jou?  It's 
a  nice  color  for  out-of-doors  and  won't  show  the  dust. 
And  doesn't  it  fit  perfectly  splendid.'^  And  look  at  these 
shoes.  I  don't  see  how  you  remembered  my  size.  You've 
thought  of  everything.  There's  even  an  automobile  veil. 
A  lady  that  came  out  here  with  Mr.  Tisdale  had  one  about 
the  same  shade.  But  you'll  have  to  help  me  put  it  on 
so  I  won't  spoil  this  plume." 

She  pushed  the  pongee  coat,  which  was  carefully  folded 
across  the  back  of  a  chair,  a  little  aside  and,  seating  her- 
self before  the  mirror,  reached  to  take  the  scarf  and  ex- 
posed a  folded  paper  on  the  dresser.  "  I  found  that  en- 
velope pinned  inside  the  hat,"  she  said  still  diplomatically, 
though  a  touch  of  humor  shaded  her  lips.  "  There's  a 
ten  dollar  piece  in  it  and  two  and  a  half  in  silver.  Prob- 
ably it's  your  change." 

But  Banks  turned  the  envelope  and  read  pencilled 
across  the  front :  "  There  isn't  any  duplicate,  but  thanks 
just  the  same." 


CHAPTER  XX 

KEKNEIi    AND    PEACH 

AFTER  that  little  wedding  journey  down  in  Oregon, 
Banks  returned  to  Seattle  to  engage  a  crew  for  the 
first  step  to  reclamation;  combining  pleasure  with  busi- 
ness, he  brought  Annabel  and  registered  at  the  New  Wash- 
ington Hotel.  And  here  Daniels,  detailed  to  learn  some- 
thing in  regard  to  the  Iditarod  strike  where,  it  was  ru- 
mored, the  Morgansteins  were  negotiating  for  the  miner's 
valuable  holdings,  finally  traced  him. 

"  Sure  we  have  a  Banks  of  Alaska  with  us,"  the  clerk 
responded,  smiling,  and  turned  the  page  to  show  the 
Press  representative  the  strained,  left-handed  signature. 
*'  He's  a  sawed-off  specimen  with  a  face  like  a  peachstone ; 
but  he  said  if  he  put  down  his  regular  name,  the  boys 
likely  would  miss  his  trail." 

"  Mrs.  Annabel  Green  Banks  Hesperides  Vale,"  read 
Jimmie. 

"  Lucky  Banks  Iditarod  and  Hesperides  Vale. 

"  This  looks  like  my  man,  sure ;  but  who  is  Mrs.  Green- 
Banks?     His  wife  or  mother.?" 

"  Bride,"  the  clerk  replied  laconically.  "  It's  a  sort 
of  overdue  honeymoon.  But  she's  rather  smart  looking; 
fine  eyes  and  tall  enough  to  make  up  for  him.  They're  a 
pair." 

"  I  see.  Kernel  and  peach.  But  Hesperides  Vale," 
Daniels  went  on  thoughtfully.  "  Why,  that's  in  the  new 
fruit  belt  over  near  Wenatchee,  my  old  stamping-ground." 

The  clerk  nodded.  "  She  owns  some  orchard  lands  over 
there  and  to  hear  him  talk,  you'd  think  she  had  the  money. 


248      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Until  it  comes  to  ordering;  then  the  Queen  of  Sheba  isn't 
in  it.  *  I  guess  we  can  stand  the  best  room  in  the  house,' 
he  says.  And  when  I  showed  them  the  blue  suite  and  told 
them  Tarquina,  the  prima  donna  opening  at  the  Metro- 
politan to-night,  had  the  companion  suite  in  rose,  it's: 
'  Do  you  think  you  can  put  up  with  this  blue,  Annabel  ?  ' 
But  there  comes  the  cameo  now.  No,  the  other  way,  from 
the  street." 

Jimmie  met  the  prospector  midway  across  the  lobby. 
"  Mr.  Banks  ?  "  he  began  genially.  "  I  am  the  lucky  one 
this  time ;  I  came  in  purposely  to  see  you.  I  am  Daniels, 
representing  the  Seattle  Press,  My  paper  is  particular 
about  the  Alaska  news,  and  I  came  straight  to  headquar- 
ters to  find  out  about  the  Iditarod  camp." 

Banks  kept  on  to  the  desk,  and  Jimmie  turned  to  walk 
with  him.  The  clerk  was  ready  with  his  key.  "  Mrs. 
Banks  hasn't  come  in  yet,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  She's  likely  been  kept  up  at  Sedgewick-Wilson's.  I 
introduced  her  to  a  friend  of  mine  there.  I  had  to  chase 
around  to  find  a  contractor  that  could  ship  his  own 
scrapers  and  shovels  across  the  range,  and  I  thought  the 
time  would  go  quicker,  for  her,  picking  out  clothes.  But," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  reporter,  "  we  may  as  well  sit 
down  and  wait  for  her  here  in  the  lobby." 

"  I  understand,"  began  Daniels,  opening  his  notebook 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  "  that  your  placer  in  the  Iditarod 
country  has  panned  out  a  clear  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars." 

"  Ninety-five  thousand,  two  hundred  and  twenty-six," 
corrected  the  mining  man,  "  with  the  last  clean-up  to  hear 
from." 

Jimmie  set  these  figures  down,  then  asked :  "  Is  the 
rumor  true  that  the  Morgansteins  are  considering  an  offer 
from  you?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  piped  the  little  man.     "  They  made  me  an 


KERNEL  AND  PEACH  249 

offer.  I  gave  'em  an  option  on  my  bunch  of  claims  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  Their  engineer  has  gone  in 
to  look  the  property  over.  If  they  buy,  they'll  likely  send 
a  dredger  through  by  spring  and  work  a  big  bunch  of 
men." 

There  was  a  silent  moment  while  Jimmie  recorded  these 
facts,  then :  "  And  I  understand  you  are  interested  in 
fruit  lands  east  of  the  mountains,"  he  said.  "  It  often 
happens  that  way.  Men  make  their  pile  up  there  in  the 
frozen  north  and  come  back  here  to  Washington  to  invest 
it." 

"Likely,"  replied  Banks  shortly.  "Likely.  But  it's 
my  wife  that  owns  the  property  in  the  fruit  belt.  And 
it's  a  mighty  promising  layout;  it's  up  to  me  to  stay 
with  it  till  she  gets  her  improvements  in.  Afterwards  — 
now  I  want  you  to  get  this  in  correct.  Last  time  things 
got  mixed ;  the  young  fellow  wrote  me  down  Bangs.  And 
I've  read  things  in  the  newspaper  lately  about  HoUis  Tis- 
dale  that  I  know  for  a  fact  ain't  so." 

"  Hollis  Tisdale.''  "  Jimmie  suspended  his  pencil.  "  So 
you  know  the  Sphynx  of  the  Yukon,  do  you.''  " 

"  That's  it.  That's  the  name  that  blame  newspaper 
called  him.  Sphynx  nothing.  Hollis  Tisdale  is  the  best 
known  man  in  Alaska  and  the  best  liked.  If  the  Govern- 
ment had  had  the  sense  to  put  him  at  the  head  of  the 
Alaska  business,  there'd  been  something  domg,  my,  yes." 

The  reporter  finished  his  period.  "  Don't  let  this  in- 
terview bother  you,"  he  said.  "  It's  going  into  my  paper 
straight,  Mr.  Banks,  and  in  your  own  words." 

While  he  spoke,  his  vigilant  glance  rested  lightly  on  one 
of  the  several  guests  scattered  about  the  lobby.  He  was 
a  grave  and  thoughtful  man  and  had  seemed  deeply  en- 
grossed in  a  magazine,  but  he  had  changed  his  seat  for 
a  chair  within  speaking  distance,  and  Jimmie  had  not  seen 
him  turn  a  page. 


250       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  What  I  was  going  to  saj,  then,"  resumed  Banks, 
"  was  that  afterwards,  when  the  orchards  are  in  shape,  I 
am  going  back  to  Alaska  and  take  a  bunch  of  those  aban- 
doned claims,  where  the  miners  have  quit  turning  up  the 
earth,  and  just  seed  'em  to  oats  and  blue  stem.  Either 
would  do  mighty  well.  The  sun  shines  hot  long  summer 
days,  and  the  ground  keeps  moist  from  the  melting  snow 
on  the  mountains.  I've  seen  little  patches  of  grain  up 
there  and  hay  ripening  and  standing  high  as  my  shoulder. 
But  what  they  need  most  in  the  interior  is  stock  farms, 
horses  and  beeves,  and  I  am  going  to  take  in  a  fine  bunch 
of  both;  they'll  do  fine;  winter  right  along  with  the 
caribou  and  reindeer." 

"  Well,  that's  a  new  idea  to  me,"  exclaimed  Daniels, 
"  Alaska  to  me  has  always  stood  for  blizzards,  snow, 
glaciers,  impregnable  mountains,  bleak  and  barren  plains 
like  the  steppes  of  Russia,  and  privation,  privation  of  the 
worst  kind." 

Banks  nodded  grimly.  "  That's  because  the  first  of  us 
got  caught  by  winter  unprepared.  Why,  men  freeze  to 
death  every  blizzard  right  here  in  the  States;  sometimes 
it's  in  Dakota;  sometimes  old  New  York,  with  railroads 
lacing  back  and  forth  close  as  shoestrings.  And  imagine 
that  big,  unsettled  Alaska  interior  without  a  single  rail- 
road and  only  one  wagon-road;  men  most  of  the  time 
breaking  their  own  trails.  Not  a  town  or  a  house  some- 
times in  hundreds  of  miles  to  shelter  'em,  if  a  storm  hap- 
pens to  break.  But  you  talk  with  any  Swede  miner  from 
up  there.  He'll  tell  you  they  could  make  a  new  Sweden 
out  of  Alaska.  Let  us  use  the  timber  for  building  and 
fuel ;  let  a  man  that's  got  the  money  to  do  it  start  a  lum- 
ber-mill or  mine  the  coal.  Give  us  the  same  land  and 
mineral  laws  you  have  here  in  the  States,  and  homeseekers 
would  flock  in  thick  as  birds  in  springtime." 

The  stranger  closed  his  magazine.     "  Pardon  me,"  he 


KERNEL  AND  PEACH  251 

said,  taking  advantage  of  the  pause,  "  but  do  you  mean 
that  Conservation  is  all  that  is  keeping  home-seekers  out 
of  Alaska?" 

Banks  nodded  this  time  with  a  kind  of  fierceness;  his 
eyes  scintillated  a  white  heat,  but  he  suppressed  the  im- 
minent explosion  and  began  with  forced  mildness,  "  My, 
yes.  But  you  imagine  a  man  trying  to  locate  with  ninety- 
five  per  cent,  of  the  country  reserved.  First  you've  got 
to  consider  the  Coast  Range.  The  great  wall  of  China  's 
nothing  but  a  line  of  ninepins  to  the  Chugach  and  St. 
Elias  wall.  The  Almighty  builds  strong,  and  he  set  that 
wall  to  hold  the  Pacific  Ocean  back.  Imagine  peaks  piled 
miles  high  and  cemented  together  with  glaciers ;  the  Malis- 
pina  alone  has  eighty  miles  of  water  front;  and  there's 
the  Nanatuk,  Columbia,  Muir;  but  the  Government  ain't 
found  names  for  more'n  half  of  'em  yet,  nor  a  quarter  of 
the  mountains.  Now  imagine  a  man  getting  his  family 
over  that  divide,  driving  his  little  bunch  of  cattle  through, 
packing  an  outfit  to  keep  'em  going  the  first  year  or  so. 
Suppose  he's  even  able  to  take  along  a  portable  house; 
what's  he  going  to  do  about  fuel?  Is  he  going  to  trek 
back  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  seaport,  like  the  Government 
expects,  to  pack  in  coal?  Australian  maybe,  or  Japan 
low  grade,  but  more  likely  it's  Pennsylvania  sold  on  the 
dock  for  as  high  as  seventeen  dollars  a  ton.  Yes,  sir,  and 
with  Alaska  coal,  the  best  kind  and  enough  to  supply  the 
United  States  for  six  hundred  years,  scattered  all  around, 
cropping  right  out  of  the  ground.  Think  of  him 
camped  alongside  a  whole  forest  of  spruce,  where  he  can't 
cut  a  stick." 

The  little  man's  voice  had  reached  high  pitch;  he  rose 
and  took  a  short,  swift  turn  across  the  floor.  The 
stranger  was  silent;  apparently  he  was  weighing  this  as- 
tonishing   information.     But    Daniels    broke    the    pause. 

"  The  Government  ought  to  hurry  those  investigations," 


252       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

he  said.  "  Foster,  the  mining  engineer,  told  me  never 
but  one  coal  patent  had  been  allowed  in  all  Alaska,  and 
that's  on  the  coast.  He  has  put  thousands  into  coal 
land  and  can't  get  title  or  his  money  back.  The  com- 
pany he  is  interested  with  has  had  to  stop  development, 
because,  pending  investigation,  no  man  can  mine  coal  until 
his  patent  is  secured.  It  looks  like  the  country  is 
strangled  in  red  tape." 

"  It  is,"  cried  Banks.  "  And  one  President's  so  busy 
building  a  railroad  for  the  Filipinos,  and  rushing  sup- 
plies to  the  Panama  Canal  he  goes  out  of  office  and  clear 
forgets  he's  left  Alaska  temporarily  tied  up;  and  the 
next  one  has  his  hands  so  full  fixing  the  tariff  and  running 
down  the  trusts  he  can't  look  the  question  up.  And  if 
he  could.  Congress  is  working  overtime,  appropriating 
the  treasury  money  home  in  the  States.  There's  so  many 
Government  buildings  to  put  up  and  harbors  and  rivers 
to  dredge,  it  can't  even  afford  to  give  us  a  few  lights  and 
charts,  and  ships  keep  on  feeling  their  way  and  going  to 
destruction  on  the  Alaska  coast.  Alaska  is  side-tracked. 
She's  been  left  standing  so  long  she's  going  to  rust." 

"  If  some  of  our  senators  could  listen  to  you,"  said  the 
stranger,  with  a  swift  and  vanishing  smile,  "  their  eyes 
would  be  opened.  But  that  is  the  trouble;  Alaska  has 
had  no  voice.  It  is  true  each  congressman  has  been  so 
burdened  with  the  wants  of  his  own  State  that  session 
after  session  has  closed  before  the  Alaska  bills  were 
reached.  We  have  been  accustomed  to  look  on  Alaska 
as  a  bleak  and  forbidding  country,  with  a  floating  popula- 
tion of  adventurers  and  lawless  men,  who  go  there  with 
the  intention  to  stay  only  long  enough  to  reap  a  mineral 
harvest.  If  she  had  other  great  resources  and  such  cit- 
izens as  you,  why  were  you  not  in  Washington  to  exploit 
her?  " 

Lucky  Banks  shook  his  head.     "  Up  to  this  year,"  he 


KERNEL  AND  PEACH  263 

said  and  smiled  grimly,  "  I  couldn't  have  made  the  trip 
without  beating  my  way,  and  I  guess  if  I  went  to  some  of 
those  senators  now  and  escaped  being  put  down  for  an 
ex-convict,  they'd  say  I  was  engineering  a  trust.  They'd 
turn  another  key  on  Alaska  to  keep  me  out." 

He  wheeled  to  tramp  down  the  lobby,  then  stopped. 
Annabel  had  entered.  Annabel  arrayed  in  a  new,  im- 
ported tailored  suit  of  excellent  cloth,  in  a  shade  of  Copen- 
hagen blue,  and  a  chic  hat  of  blue  beaver  trimnled  with 
paradise.  Instantly  the  mining  man's  indignation  cooled. 
He  put  aside  Alaska's  wrongs  and  hurried,  beaming,  to 
meet  his  wife.  "  Why,  you  bought  blue,"  he  said  with 
pleased  surprise.  "  And  you  can  wear  it,  my,  yes,  about 
as  well  as  pink." 

Annabel  smiled  with  the  little  ironical  curl  of  the  lip 
that  showed  plainly  her  good  sense  held  her  steady,  on  the 
crest  of  that  high  wave  whereon  it  had  been  fortune's  freak 
to  raise  her.  "Lucile  showed  me  a  place,  on  the  next 
floor  of  the  store,  where  I  could  get  the  tan  taken  off  my 
face  while  I  was  waiting  for  alterations  to  my  suit. 
They  did  it  with  a  sort  of  cold  cream  and  hot  water. 
There's  just  a  streak  left  around  my  neck,  and  I  can  cover 
that  with  the  necklace."  She  paused  then  added  with  a 
gentle  conciliation  creeping  through  her  confidential  tone: 
•"  I  am  going  to  wear  the  pink  chifFon  to-night  to  hear 
Tarquina.  Lucile  says  it's  all  right  for  a  l?ox  party, 
opening  night.  I  like  her  real  well.  I  asked  her  to  go 
with  us,  and  she's  coming  early,  in  time  for  dinner,  at 
seven." 

"  I  thought  you'd  make  a  team,"  replied  Banks,  de- 
lighted. "  And  I'm  glad  you  asked  her,  my,  yes.  It 
would  have  been  lonesome  sitting  by  ourselves  'mongst  the 
empty  chairs." 

They  were  walking  towards  the  elevator,  and  Daniels, 
who  had  learned  from  the  clerk  that  the  important  looking 


254.      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

stranger  who  had  seemed  so  interested  in  Banks'  informa- 
tion, was  the  head  of  the  new  coal  commission,  going  north 
for  investigation,  stopped  the  prospector  to  say  good-by. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  that  interview,  Mr.  Banks," 
he  said  frankly.  "  I've  learned  more  about  Alaska  from 
you  in  fifteen  minutes  than  I  had  put  together  in  five 
years." 

"  You  are  welcome,  so's  you  get  it  in  straight.  But," 
—  and  the  little  man  drew  himself  proudly  erect, — "I 
want  to  make  you  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Banks,  Mr. 
Daniels." 

"  I  am  awfully  glad  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Banks,"  said 
Jimmie  cordially,  offering  his  hand.  "  I  understand  you 
are  from  Hesperides  Vale,  and  I  grew  up  over  there  in  the 
Columbia  desert.  It's  almost  like  seeing  friends  from 
home." 

"  Likely,"  Banks  began,  but  his  glance  moved  from  the 
reporter  to  his  wife  and  he  repeated  less  certainly, 
*'  likely  we  could  get  him  to  take  one  of  those  chairs  off 
our  hands." 

Annabel's  humor  rose  to  her  eyes.  "  He's  hired  a  box 
for  Carmen  to-night ;  they  were  out  of  seats  in  the  divans, 
and  it  worries  him  because  our  party  is  so  small." 

"  I'd  be  delighted,  only," —  Jimmie  paused,  flushing  and 
looking  intently  inside  his  hat  — "  the  fact  is,  I  am  going 
to  take  the  Society  Editor  on  my  paper.  We  have  miser- 
able seats,  the  first  row  in  the  orchestra  was  the  best  they 
could  do  for  us,  and  she  has  to  write  up  the  gowns.  She's 
an  awfully  nice  girl,  and  she  has  a  little  trick  of  keeping 
her  copy  out  of  sight,  so  the  people  in  the  house  never 
would  catch  on ;  would  you  think  me  very  bold," —  and 
with  this  he  looked  up  directly  at  Annabel  — "  if  I  asked 
you  to  give  that  place  in  your  box  to  her.?  " 

He  was  graciously  assured  it  would  make  Mr.  Banks 
"  easy  "  if  they  both  j  oined  the  party,  and  Annabel  sug- 


KERNEL  AND  PEACH  255 

gested  that  he  bring  the  Society  Editor  to  dinner,  "  so 
a«  to  get  acquainted  "  before  the  opera.  All  of  which  was 
speedily  arranged  by  telephone.  Miss  Atkins  accepted 
with  pleasure. 

The  dinner  was  a  complete  success;  so  complete  that 
the  orchestra  was  concluding  the  overture  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  theater.  A  little  flurry  ran  through  the  body 
of  the  house  when  Annabel  appeared.  Mrs.  Feversham 
in  the  opposite  box  raised  her  lorgnette. 

"  I  wonder  who  they  are,"  she  said.  "  Why,  the  girl 
in  white  looks  like  Miss  Atkins,  who  writes  the  society 
news,  and  there  is  your  reporter,  Daniels." 

"  Other  man  is  Lucky  Banks ;  stunning  woman  in  pink 
must  be  his  wife."  Frederic,  having  settled  in  his  chair 
and  eased  his  lame  knee,  focussed  his  own  glasses. 

"  George,  Marcia,"  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  see  that 
necklace?  Nuggets,  straight  from  the  sluices  of  the 
Annabel,  I  bet.  Nuggets  strung  with  emeralds,  and  each 
as  big  as  they  grow.  I  suppose  that  chain  is  what  you 
call  barbarous,  but  I  rather  like  it." 

"  It  is  fit  for  a  queen,"  admitted  Marcia.  "  One  of 
those  barbarian  queens  we  read  about.  No  ordinary 
woman  could  wear  it,  but  it  seems  made  for  her  throat." 
And  she  added,  dropping  her  lorgnette  to  turn  her  cal- 
culating glance  on  her  brother's  face,  "  Every  woman  her 
price." 

Frederic  laughed  shortly.  The  purplish  flush  deep- 
ened in  his  cheeks,  and  his  eyes  rested  on  Beatriz  Weather- 
bee.  She  was  seated  in  the  front  of  the  box  with  Eliza- 
beth, and  as  she  leaned  forward  a  little,  stirred  by  the 
passionate  cry  of  the  violins,  her  profile  was  turned  to 
him. 

"  The  price  doesn't  cut  as  much  figure  as  you  think," 
he  said. 

Then   the    curtain    rose.     Tarquina   was    a    marvelous 


266      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Carmen.  The  Society  Editor,  who  had  taken  her  note- 
book surreptitiously  from  a  silk  evening  bag  and,  imder 
cover  of  a  chiffon  scarf,  commenced  to  record  the  names 
and  gowns  of  important  personages,  got  no  farther  than 
the  party  in  the  opposite  box  during  the  first  act.  But 
she  made  amends  in  the  intermission.  It  was  then  a  smile 
suddenly  softened  her  firm  mouth,  and  she  introduced 
Annabel  to  her  columns  with  this  item. 

"  Noticeable  among  the  out  of  town  guests  were  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  John  Henry  Banks,  who  entertained  a  box  party, 
following  a  charming  dinner  at  the  New  Washington. 
Mrs.  Banks,  a  recent  bride,  was  handsomely  gowned  in 
pink  chiffon  over  messaline,  and  wore  a  unique  necklace 
of  nuggets  which  were  gathered  from  her  husband's  mine 
near  Iditarod,  Alaska.  The  gold  pieces  were  linked 
lengthwise,  alternating  with  single  emeralds,  and  the 
pendant  was  formed  of  three  slender  nuggets,  each  termi- 
nating in  a  matched  diamond  and  emerald." 

While  Geraldine  wrote  this,  Frederic  Morganstein 
made  his  way  laboriously,  with  the  aid  of  a  crutch,  around 
to  the  box.  "  How  do  do.  Miss  Atkins,"  he  said. 
"Hello,  Daniels!  Well,  Mr.  Banks,  how  are  you? 
Greatest  Carmen  ever  sung  in  this  theater,  isn't  it.^^  Now, 
keep  your  seat.  I  find  it  easier  to  stand.  Just  came  for 
a  minute  to  be  presented  to  —  your  wife." 

His  venture  carried.  The  little  man,  rising,  said  with 
conscious  pride :  "  Mrs.  Banks,  allow  me  to  make  you  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Morganstein.  He's  the  man  that  holds 
the  option  on  the  Annabel.  And  this  is  Miss  Purdy,  Mr. 
Morganstein;  Miss  Lucile  Purdy  of  Sedge  wick-Wilson's. 
I  see  you  know  the  rest  of  the  bunch." 

"  I  guess  it's  up  to  me  to  apologize,  Mrs.  Banks,"  said 
Frederic,  heavily  humorous.  "  I  wouldn't  believe  my  sis- 
ter, Mrs.  Feversham,  when  she  told  me  there  were  some 


KERNEL  AND  PEACH  257 

smart  women  in  those  Alaska  towns."  He  paused,  laugh- 
ing, while  his  glance  moved  from  Annabel's  ironical  mouth 
to  her  superb  shoulders  and  rested  on  the  nugget  chain; 
then  he  said :  "  From  that  interview  of  yours  in  to- 
night's PresSy  Mr.  Banks,  there  isn't  much  the  country 
can't  produce." 

"  Likely  not,"  responded  the  little  man  quickly.  "  But 
my  wife  was  an  Oregon  girl.  We  were  engaged,  my,  yes, 
long  before  I  saw  Alaska.  And  lately  she's  been  living 
around  Hesperides  Vale.  She's  got  some  fine  orchard 
property  over  there,  in  her  own  right." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  Frederic's  speculative  look  returned 
to  Annabel's  face.  "  Hesperides  Vale.  That's  in  the 
new  reclamation  country,  east  of  the  mountains,  isn't 
it.?  I  was  intending  to  motor  through  that  neighborhood 
when  this  accident  stopped  me  and  put  an  end  to  the  trip. 
They  are  turning  out  some  fine  apples  in  that  valley,  I 
understand.  But  it's  curtain  time.  Awfully  glad  I've 
met  you;  see  you  again.  Lend  me  your  shoulder,  will 
you,  Daniels  - —  around  to  my  box.?  " 

While  they  were  crossing  the  foyer,  he  said :  "  That 
enlargement  came  out  fine ;  you  must  run  up  to  my  office, 
while  it's  there  to-morrow,  to  see  it.  And  that  was  a 
great  write-up  you  gave  Lucky  Banks.  It  was  yours, 
wasn't  it.?  Thought  so.  Bought  a  hundred  copies. 
Mrs.  Feversham  is  going  to  take  'em  east  to  distribute  in 
Washington.  Double  blue-pencilled  one,  'specially  for  the 
President." 

Jimmie  smiled,  blushing.  "  That's  more  than  I  deserve, 
but  I'm  afraid,  even  if  it  reaches  his  hands,  he  won't  take 
the  time  to  read  it." 

"You  leave  that  to  Mrs.  Feversham,"  replied  Morgan- 
stein.  "  Saw  that  little  scoop,  too,  about  Tisdale.  He's 
the  closest  oyster  on  record." 

"  The  trouble  was,"  said  Jimmie  wisely,  "  he  started 


268      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

that  Indian  story  and  nobody  thought  to  interrupt  with 
more  coal  questions." 

"  You  mean  he  told  that  yarn  purposely  to  head  us 
ofF?  " 

"  That's  the  way  it  seemed  to  me  afterwards.  He  spun 
it  out,  you  know ;  it  lasted  to  Bremerton,  where  I  got  off. 
But  it  was  interesting;  the  best  I  ever  heard,  and  I  took 
it  all  down,  word  for  word.  It  was  little  use,  though. 
The  chief  gave  one  look  at  my  bunch  of  copy  and  warned 
me,  for  the  last  time,  the  paper  wasn't  publishing  any 
novels.  What  I  had  gone  aboard  the  Aquila  for  was  to 
write  up  her  equipment  and,  incidentally,  to  pick  up  Hol- 
lis  Tisdale's  views  on  Alaska  coal." 

They  had  reached  the  entrance  to  the  Morganstein  box ; 
the  orchestra  was  playing  again,  the  curtain  began  to  rise 
on  the  second  act,  and  Daniels  hurried  back  to  his  place. 
But  during  the  next  intermission,  an  usher  brought  the 
young  reporter  a  note.  It  was  written  concisely  on  a 
business  card,  but  Jimmie  read  it  through  slowly  a  second 
time  before  he  handed  it  to  the  Society  Editor. 

"  Mrs.  Feversham  wants  to  see  that  story,"  so  it  ran. 
**  Leave  it  at  my  office  in  the  morning.  She  may  take  it 
east  with  her.  Knows  some  magazine  people  who  are  go- 
ing to  feature  Alaska  and  the  Northwest." 

After  a  thoughtful  moment  Miss  Atkins  returned  the 
card  to  Jimmie.     "Is  it  the  Indian  story?"  she  asked. 

Daniels  nodded,  watching  her  face.  His  smouldering 
excitement  was  ready  to  flame. 

"  They  will  read  it  for  Mrs.  Feversham," —  Geraldine's 
voice  trembled  slightly  — "  and  they  will  take  it.  It's  a 
magazine  story.  They  ought  to  pay  you  handsomely. 
It's  the  best  thing  you  ever  wrote." 

Marcia  Feversham  saw  possibilities  in  that  story.  In- 
deed, writing  Jimmie  from  Washington,  she  called  it  a  lit- 


KERNEL  AND  PEACH  259 

tie  masterpiece.  There  was  no  doubt  it  would  be  accepted 
somewhere,  though  he  must  expect  to  see  it  cut  down  con- 
siderably, it  was  so  long.  Then,  presumably  to  facilitate 
the  placing  of  the  manuscript,  she  herself  went  over  it 
with  exceeding  care,  revising  with  her  pencil,  eliminating 
whole  paragraphs,  and  finally  fixing  the  end  short  of 
several  pages.  In  the  copy  which  her  husband's  stenog- 
rapher prepared,  the  original  was  reduced  fully  a  third. 
After  that  it  mellowed  for  an  interval  in  Marcia's  drawer. 

At  the  close  of  November,  it  was  announced  that  Stuart 
Foster,  the  junior  defendant  in  the  first  "  Conspiracy  to 
defraud  the  Government "  trial,  was  weather-bound  in 
Alaska.  This,  taken  in  consideration  with  the  serious  ill- 
ness of  Tisdale,  on  whom  the  prosecution  relied  for  tech- 
nical testimony,  resulted  in  setting  the  case  for  hearing 
the  last  week  in  the  following  March.  It  was  at  this  time, 
while  HoUis  was  lying  unconscious  and  in  delirium  at  a 
hospital,  that  his  great  wealth  began  to  be  exploited. 
Everywhere,  when  inquiries  were  made  as  to  his  health, 
fabulous  statements  followed  about  the  Aurora.  To  men- 
tion the  mine  was  like  saying  "  Open  Sesame ! "  Then, 
finally,  it  was  whispered  and  repeated  with  conviction  by 
people  who  "  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  Hollis  Tisdale" 
at  the  beginning,  that  he  had  defrauded  the  widow  of  his 
dead  partner  —  who  had  made  the  discovery  and  paid  for 
it  with  his  life  —  of  her  share. 

Then,  at  last,  early  in  December,  Jimmie's  masterpiece 
was  forwarded  to  a  new  magazine  in  New  York. 

"  Dear  Mr,  Sampson;  — "  so  Marcia  wrote  — 

"  Here  is  a  story  of  Western  life  that  I  believe  will  be 
of  interest  to  you.  The  incident  actually  occurred.  The 
man  who  killed  the  Indian  child,  and  who  amused  my 
brother's  guests  with  the  story  while  we  were  cruising 
lately  on  the  AquiLa,  was  Hollis  Tisdale  of  the  Geograph- 
ical Survey.     He  is  probably  the  best  known  figure  in 


260      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Alaska,  the  owner  of  the  fabulously  rich  Aurora  mine. 
His  partner,  who  made  the  discovery,  paid  for  it  with  his 
life,  and  there  is  a  rumor  that  his  wife,  who  should  have 
a  half  interest,  is  penniless. 

"  Mr.  Tisdale  will  be  a  leading  witness  for  the  Govern- 
ment in  the  pending  Alaska  coal  cases.  Strange  —  is  it 
not  ?  —  since  a  criminal  is  barred  from  testifying  in  a 
United  States  court. 

"  The  last  issue  of  your  magazine  was  most  attractive. 
Enclosed  are  lists  of  two  thousand  names  and  my  check  to 
cover  that  many  sample  copies  of  the  number  in  which  the 
story  is  published.  March  would  be  opportune.  Of 
course,  while  I  do  not  object  to  any  use  you  may  care  to 
make  of  this  information,  I  trust  I  shall  be  spared  pub- 
licity. 

*'  Very  truly, 

"Marcia  Feversham." 


CHAPTER  XXI 


FREDEMC  MORGANSTEIN  did  not  wait  until 
spring  to  open  his  villa.  The  furnishings  were  com- 
pleted, even  to  the  Kodieik  and  polar-bear  rugs,  in  time 
to  entertain  a  house-party  at  Christmas.  Marcia,  who 
came  home  for  the  event,  arrived  early  enough  to  take 
charge  of  the  final  preparations,  but  the  ideas  that  gave 
character  to  the  lavish  decorations  were  Beatriz  Weather- 
bee's.  She  it  was  who  suggested  the  chime  of  holly  bells 
with  tongues  of  red  berries,  hung  by  ropes  of  cedar  from 
the  vaulted  roof  directly  over  the  stage;  and  saw  the  two 
great  scarlet  camellias  that  had  been  coaxed  into  full 
bloom  specially  for  the  capitalist  placed  at  either  end  of 
the  footlights,  while  potted  poinsettias  and  small  madrona 
trees,  brought  in  from  the  bluffs  above  the  grounds,  fin- 
ished the  scheme  with  the  effect  of  an  old  mission  garden. 
Then  there  were  a  hundred  more  poinsettias  disposed  of, 
without  crowding,  on  the  landings  and  inside  the  railing 
of  the  gallery,  with  five  hundred  red  carnations  arranged 
with  Oregon  grape  and  fern  in  Indian  baskets  to  cap  the 
balustrade.  To  one  looking  up  from  the  lower  hall,  they 
had  the  appearance  of  quaint  jardiniere. 

There  was  not  too  much  color.  December,  in  the  Puget 
Sound  country,  means  the  climax  of  the  wet  season  when 
under  the  interminable  curtain  of  the  rain,  dawn  seems  to 
touch  hands  with  twilight.  It  was  hardly  four  o'clock 
that  Christmas  eve  when  the  Aquila  arrived  with  the 
guests  from  Seattle,  but  the  villa  lights  were  on.  A  huge 
and  resinous  backlog,  sending  broad  tongues  of  flame  into 


262      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  cavernous  throat  of  the  fireplace,  gave  to  the  illumina- 
tion a  ruddier,  flickering  glow.  To  Foster,  who  was  the 
first  to  reach  the  veranda,  Foster  who  had  been  so  long 
accustomed  to  faring  at  Alaska  road-houses,  to  making 
his  own  camp,  on  occasion,  with  a  single  helper  in  the 
frosty  solitudes,  that  view  through  the  French  window 
must  have  seemed  like  a  scene  from  the  Arabian  Nights. 
Involuntarily  he  stopped,  and  suddenly  the  luxurious  in- 
terior became  a  setting  for  one  living  figure.  Elizabeth 
was  there,  arranging  trifles  on  a  Christmas  tree ;  and  Mrs. 
Feversham,  seated  at  a  piano,  was  playing  a  brilliant 
bolero;  but  the  one  woman  he  saw  held  the  center  of  the 
stage.  Her  sparkling  face  was  framed  in  a  mantilla;  a 
camellia,  plucked  from  one  of  the  flowering  shrubs,  was 
tucked  in  the  lace  above  her  ear,  and  she  was  dancing  with 
castanets  in  the  old  mission  garden. 

The  next  moment  Frederic  passed  him  and  threw  open 
the  door  with  his  inevitable  "  Bravo !  "  And  instantly  the 
music  ceased;  Marcia  started  to  her  feet;  the  dancer 
pulled  ofi^  her  mantilla,  and  the  flower  dropped  from  her 
hair. 

"  Go  on !  Encore !  "  he  laughed.  "  My,  but  you've 
got  that  cachucha  down  to  a  science ;  bred,  though,  I  guess, 
in  your  little  Spanish  feet.  You'd  dance  all  the  sense  a 
man  has  out  of  his  head." 

"  That's  the  reason  none  of  us  heard  the  Aquila  whistle," 
said  Marcia,  coming  forward.  "  Beatriz  promised  to 
dance  to-night,  in  a  marvelous  yellow  brocade  that  was 
her  great-grandmother's,  and  we  were  rehearsing;  but  she 
looked  so  like  a  nun,  masquerading,  in  that  gi'ay  crepe  de 
Chine,  I  almost  forgot  the  accompaniment.  Why,  Mr. 
Foster!  How  delightful  you  were  able  to  get  home  for 
Christmas." 

"  I  am  fortunate,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  The  ice 
caught  me  in  the  Yukon,  but  I  mushed  through  to  Fair- 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  263 

banks  and  came  on  to  the  coast  by  stage.  I  just  made 
the  steamer,  and  she  docked  alongside  the  Aquila  not  fif- 
teen minutes  before  she  sailed.  Mr.  Morganstein  brought 
me  along  to  hear  my  report." 

"  I  guess  we  are  all  glad  to  have  you  home  for  Christ- 
mas," said  Elizabeth. 

She  moved  on  with  her  sister  to  meet  the  other  guests 
who  were  trooping  into  the  hall,  and  Foster  found  himself 
taking  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  hand.  His  own  shook  a  little, 
and  suddenly  he  wasr  unable  to  say  any  of  the  friendly, 
solicitous  things  he  had  found  it  so  easy  to  express  to 
these  other  people,  after  his  long  absence ;  only  his  young 
eyes,  searching  her  face  for  any  traces  of  care  or  anxiety 
the  season  may  have  left,  spoke  eloquently.  Afterwards, 
when  the  greetings  were  over,  and  the  women  trailed  away 
to  their  rooms,  he  saw  he  had  forgotten  to  give  her  a 
package  which  he  had  carried  up  from  the  Aqmla,  and 
hurried  to  overtake  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  It  was  brought  down  by  messenger  from  Vivian  Court 
for  you,"  he  explained,  "just  as  we  were  casting  off,  and 
I  took  charge  of  it.  There  is  a  letter,  you  see,  which  the 
clerk  has  tucked  under  the  string." 

The  package  was  a  florist's  carton,  wide  and  deep,  with 
the  name  Hollywood  Gardens  printed  across  the  violet 
cover,  but  the  letter  was  postmarked  Washington,  D.  C. 
"  Violets ! "  she  exclaimed  softly,  "  '  when  violet  time  is 
gone.'  " 

Her  whole  lithe  body  seemed  to  emanate  a  s-ubdued 
pleasure,  and  settling  the  box,  unopened,  in  the  curve  of 
her  arm,  she  started  up  the  staircase.  Foster,  looking 
up,  caught  the  glance  she  remembered  to  send  from  the 
gallery  railing.     Her  smile  was  radiant. 

She  did  not  turn  on  the  electric  switch  when  she  closed 
her  door;  the  primrose  walls  reflected  the  light  from  the 
great  plate-glass  window,  with  the  effect  of  candle  glow. 


264      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  put  the  box  on  a  table  near  the  casement  and  laid 
the  letter  aside  to  lift  the  lid.  The  perfume  of  violets 
rose  in  her  face  like  liberated  incense.  The  box  was  filled 
with  them;  bunches  on  bunches.  She  bent  her  cheek  to 
feel  the  cool  touch  of  them;  inhaled  their  fragrance  with 
deep,  satisfying  breaths.  Presently  she  found  the  flor- 
ist's envelope  and  in  it  Tisdale's  card.  And  she  read, 
written  under  the  name  in  a  round,  plain  woman's  hand, 
"  This  is  to  wish  you  a  Merry  Christmas  and  let  you 
know  I  have  not  forgotten  the  project." 

The  sparkle  went  out  of  her  face.  After  a  moment  she 
picked  up  the  letter  and  compared  the  address  with  the 
writing  on  the  card.  It  was  the  same  and,  seating  her- 
self by  the  window,  she  broke  the  seal.  When  she  had 
read  the  first  line  under  the  superscription,  she  stopped 
to  look  at  the  signature.  It  was  Katherine  Purdy.  She 
turned  back  and  began  again: 

"  My  dear  Mrs,  Weatherhee: 

"  I  am  the  night  nurse  on  Mr.  Tisdale's  ward.  He  dic- 
tated the  message  on  his  card  to  me,  and  I  learned  your 
address  through  ordering  the  violets  of  the  Seattle  florist 
for  him.  It  set  me  wondering  whether  he  has  ever  let  you 
know  how  desperate  things  were  with  him.  He  is  the  most 
unselfish  man  I  ever  saw,  and  the  bravest  that  ever  came  on 
this  floor.  The  evening  he  arrived  the  surgeons  advised 
amputating  his  hand  —  it  was  a  case  of  blood-poisoning  — 
but  he  said,  '  No,  I  am  ready  to  take  the  risk ;  that  right 
hand  is  more  than  half  of  me,  my  better  half.'  He  could 
joke,  even  then.  And  when  the  infection  spread  to  the 
arm,  it  was  the  same.  After  that  it  was  too  late  to  op- 
erate; just  a  question  of  endurance.  And  he  could  endure 
all  right.  My,  but  he  was  patient !  I  wish  you  could  have 
seen  him,  as  I  did,  lying  here  hour  after  hour,  staring  at 
the  ceiling,  asking  for  nothing,  when  every  nerve  in  his 
body  must  have  been  on  fire.  But  he  won  through.  He 
is  lying  here  still,  weak  and  pale  enough,  but  safe. 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  265 

"  Maybe  I  seem  impertinent,  and  I  suppose  I  am  young 
and  foolish,  but  I  don't  care ;  I  wouldn't  be  hard  as  nails, 
like  some  in  this  clinic,  if  it  was  to  cost  me  my  diploma.  I 
came  from  the  Pacific  west  —  I  am  going  back  there  as 
soon  as  I  graduate  —  and  a  girl  from  there  never  can  learn 
to  bottle  her  feelings  till  she  looks  like  a  graven  image. 
Besides,  I  know  I  am  writing  to  a  western  woman.  But 
I  want  to  say  right  here  he  never  made  a  confidant  of  me, 
never  said  one  word,  intentionally,  about  you,  but  there 
were  nights  when  his  temperature  was  running  from  a 
hundred  and  four  degrees  that  he  got  to  talking  some. 
Most  of  the  time  he  was  going  all  over  that  terrible  trip  to 
find  poor  Mr.  Weatherbee,  and  once,  when  he  was  hunting 
birds  along  some  glacier,  he  kept  hearing  David  singing 
and  calling  him.  Again  he  was  just  having  the  best,  quiet 
little  visit  with  him.  My,  how  he  loved  that  man!  And 
when  it  wasn't  David,  it  was  you.  '  I  know  you  couldn't 
marry  a  man  like  Morgan,'  he  said.  '  You  may  think  so, 
but  you  will  not  when  the  time  comes.'  And  once  it  was, 
'  Beatrice,  Beatrice,  in  spite  of  everything  I  can't  help 
believing  in  you.'  Then  one  night,  his  worst  before  the 
crisis,  he  seemed  to  be  helping  you  through  some  awful 
danger,  it  was  a  storm  I  think,  and  there  were  wild  beasts 
and  mountains,  and  at  last  when  it  was  all  over,  he  said 
quietly:  'You  do  owe  your  life  to  me,  but  I  shall  never 
hold  you  to  the  debt ;  that  would  be  too  monstrous.'  And 
a  little  later  it  was,  '  Head  high,  hold  fast,  it  will  be  a 
stiff  fight,  soldier.  My  dear,  my  dear,  do  you  think  I 
don't  know  how  near  you  came  to  loving  me?'  I  guess 
you  know  how  he  said  that.  There  are  certain  tones  in  his 
voice  that  sink  straight  to  the  bottom  of  your  heart;  I 
couldn't  keep  from  crying.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  if  you 
really  knew  how  much  he  thought  of  you,  and  how  sick  he 
had  been,  and  how  he  has  wanted  you,  nothing  could  keep 
you  from  packing  up  and  coming  straight  to  Washington. 
I  know  I  should.  I  could  go  anywhere,  through  Alaska 
or  the  Great  Sahara,  it  wouldn't  matter  which,  for  a  man, 
if  there  is  one  in  this  world,  who  could  love  me  that  well." 


266      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Beatriz  Weatherbee  folded  the  letter  and  replaced  it 
in  the  envelope.  The  action  was  mechanical,  and  she  sat 
twisting  it  with  a  kind  of  silent  emphasis,  looking  out  into 
the  thick  atmosphere.  A  dash  of  hail  struck  the  window ; 
the  plate  glass  grew  opaque.  Then,  suddenly,  she  lifted 
her  arms  to  the  table  and  dropped  her  face;  her  body 
shook.  It  was  as  though  she  had  come  at  last  to  her 
blank  wall;  the  inevitable  she  had  so  persistently  evaded 
was  upon  her;  there  was  no  escape. 

Presently  some  one  knocked.  And  instantly  her  in- 
trepid spirit  was  up,  on  guard.  She  sat  erect  and  pressed 
her  handkerchief  swiftly  to  her  eyes.  Then  Marcia  Fever- 
sham  opened  the  door  and,  finding  the  button,  flashed  on 
the  lights. 

"  Why,  Beatriz,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Are  you  here  in  the 
dark?     You  must  have  fallen  asleep  in  your  chair." 

"  And  dreaming."  She  rose,  shading  her  eyes  fram 
the  sudden  glare.  "  But  it  was  a  wretched  dream,  Mar- 
cia ;  I  am  glad  you  wakened  me.     Where  is  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  Making  Frederic's  cocktail.  He  needed  a  bracer  to 
go  through  a  business  meeting  with  Stuart  Foster;  but 
she  will  be  here  directly.  I  thought,  since  we  are  to  share 
your  rooms,  we  had  better  dress  early  to  be  out  of  the  way. 
And  I  sent  Celeste  in  to  the  Hallidays;  Elizabeth  can  do 
everything  for  me." 

"  Much  better  than  Celeste,"  she  agreed.  "  And  while 
you  are  busy,  I  shall  go  for  a  bracing  little  walk." 

"A  walk?"  echoed  Marcia  in  astonishment.  "Why, 
it's  storming.     Hear  that !  " 

Another  burst  of  hail  struck  the  window.  Mrs.  Weath- 
erbee turned,  listening,  and  so  avoiding  Marcia's  penetrat- 
ing eyes,  dropped  her  hand  from  her  own.  "  I  have  my 
raincoat  and  cap,"  she  said,  "  and  a  smart  brush  with  the 
wind  will  clear  my  head  of  cobwebs." 

With  this  she  hurriedly  smoothed  the  letter  and  laid  it 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  267 

between  the  pages  of  a  book ;  lifting  the  violets  from  the 
table,  she  carried  them  out  of  the  steam-heated  apartment 
to  the  coolness  of  the  sleeping-porch.  Mrs.  Feversham 
followed  to  the  inner  room  and  stood  watching  her  through 
the  open  door. 

"Violets!"  she  exclaimed.  "At  Christmas  1  From 
wherever  did  they  come?  " 

"From  Hollywood  Gardens,"  she  responded  almost 
eagerly.  "  Isn't  it  marvelous  how  they  make  the  out-of- 
season  flowers  bloom?  But  this  flurry  of  hail  is  the  end 
of  the  storm,  Marcia;  the  clouds  are  breaking,  and  it  is 
light  enough  to  see  the  path  above  the  pergola.  I  shall 
have  time  to  go  as  far  as  the  observatory." 

Before  she  finished  speaking,  she  was  back  in  the  room 
and  hurrying  on  her  raincoat.  Mrs.  Feversham  began  to 
lay  out  various  toilet  accessories,  but  presently,  when  the 
gallery  door  closed  behind  Beatriz,  she  walked  to  the  table 
near  the  plate-glass  window  and  picked  up  the  book.  It 
was  a  morocco-bound  edition  of  Omar's  Ruhaiyat,  which 
she  had  often  noticed  at  the  apartment  in  Vivian  Court, 
yet  she  studied  the  title  deliberately,  and  also  the  frontis- 
piece, before  she  turned  to  the  pages  that  enclosed  the 
letter.  But  it  was  natural  that,  holding  both  her  brother's 
and  Beatriz  Weatherbee'g  interests  so  at  heart,  her  scruples 
should  be  finally  dispelled,  and  she  laid  the  volume  face 
down,  to  keep  the  place,  while  she  read  the  night  nurse's 
unclinical  report.  After  that  she  went  to  the  box  of 
violets  in  the  sleeping-porch  and  found  Tisdale's  message, 
and  she  had  slipped  the  card  carefully  back  and  stood  look- 
ing meditatively  off^  through  the  open  casement  when  her 
sister  entered  from  the  gallery.  At  the  same  time  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  appeared  on  the  path  above  the  pergola.  But 
she  had  not  escaped  to  the  solitude  she  so  evidently 
had  desired,  for  Foster  accompanied  her.  When  they 
stopped   to  look  down   on   the  villa   and   the  little   cove 


268      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

where  the  Aquila  rocked  at  her  moorings,  Marcia  waved 
her  hand  gaily,  then  turned  to  the  brilliant  room. 

Elizabeth  met  her  at  the  threshold.  "  What  has  sent 
Beatriz  out  in  this  weather?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why,  you  see," —  Marcia  answered  with  a  little  back- 
ward gesture  to  the  figures  on  the  slope, — "  since  this  is 
Stuart  Foster's  first  visit  to  the  villa,  he  must  be  per- 
sonally conducted  through  the  park." 

"  She  tried  her  best  to  discourage  him.  They  were 
standing  at  the  side  entrance  when  I  came  through  the 
dining-room.  She  warned  him  first  impressions  were 
everything  and  that  it  would  be  blowing  a  gale  at  the  ob- 
servatory ;  besides,  if  Frederic  was  waiting,  she  would  not 
be  responsible." 

"  But,  '  come  what  will,  what  may  '  " —  and  meeting  her 
sister's  look,  Marcia's  eyes  gathered  brilliancy  — "  the  man 
must  have  his  hour." 

"  That  is  what  he  told  her.  He  said  the  syndicate  had 
had  his  time  and  brains,  he  might  as  well  add  his  soul,  for 
three  months  steady,  and  now  he  was  entitled  to  his  hour. 
I  wonder  — "  Elizabeth's  even  voice  wavered  — "  Do  you 
think  she  will  refuse  him?  " 

"  I  haven't  a  doubt."  And  Marcia  crossed  to  the  dress- 
ing-table and  began  to  remove  the  shell  pins  from  her 
glossy  black  hair. 

"  She  seemed  so  changed,"  pursued  Elizabeth  follow- 
ing. "  So,  well,  anxious,  depressed,  and  you  know  how 
gay  she  was  at  the  time  the  Aquila  came.  And  I  hap- 
pened to  be  near  them  when  we  started  up-stairs.  It  was 
plain  she  was  glad  to  see  him.  But  he  gave  her  a  package 
that  had  been  forwarded  from  Vivian  Court.  There  was 
a  letter ;  it  may  have  been  from  Lucky  Banks." 

Marcia  was  silent.  She  lifted  her  brush  and  swept  it 
the  length  of  her  unbound  hair. 

"  If  it  was,"  resumed  Elizabeth,  "  if  he  has  experimented 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  269 

far  enough  and  wants  to  forfeit  that  bonus,  I  am  going 
to  buy  that  piece  of  Wenatchee  desert  myself.  The  Nov- 
elty mills  will  pay  me  enough  for  my  tide  lands." 

"  No,  Elizabeth.  You  will  hold  on  to  your  tide  lands, 
every  foot."  Mrs.  Feversham  paused  to  watch  her  sis- 
ter's eyes  capitulate  under  the  batteries  of  her  own,  then 
said :  "  But  you  need  not  worry ;  Frederic  will  probably 
take  that  option  off  Lucky  Banks'  hands.  Now,  please 
db  my  puffs ;  high,  you  know,  so  as  to  use  the  paradise 
aigrette." 

Foster,  too,  had  felt  the  change  in  Mrs.  Weatherbee's 
mood  since  he  left  her  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase ;  the  ex- 
hilaration that  had  been  so  spontaneous  then,  that  had 
seemed  to  expand  to  take  him  in,  was  now  so  manifestly 
forced.  And  presently  it  came  over  him  she  was  making 
conversation,  saying  all  these  neutral  things  about  the 
villa  and  grounds  to  safeguard  the  one  vital  thing  she 
feared  to  have  him  touch. 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself,"  he  interrupted  at  last. 
"  You  don't  know  how  I've  worried  about  you ;  how  I've 
blamed  myself  all  these  slow  months  for  leaving  you  as 
I  did.  Of  course  you  understood  the  company  decided 
to  send  me  in  to  the  Iditarod  suddenly,  with  only  a  few 
hours'  notice,  and  to  reach  the  interior  while  the  summer 
trails  were  passable  I  had  to  take  the  steamer  sailing  that 
day.  I  tried  to  find  you,  but  you  were  out  of  town;  so 
I  wrote." 

"  I  received  the  letter,"  she  responded  quickly.  "  I 
want  to  thank  you  for  it;  it  was  very  pleasant  indeed  to 
feel  the  security  of  a  friend  in  reserve.  But  you  had  writ- 
ten if  there  was  anything  you  could  do,  or  if,  any  time, 
I  should  need  you  to  let  you  know,  and  there  was  no  reason 
to.  I  saw  I  had  allowed  you  to  guess  the  state  of  my 
finances ;  they  had  been  a  little  depressed,  I  confess,  but 
soon  after  you  sailed,  I  gave  an  option  on  that  desert  land 


270      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

east  of  the  Cascades  and  was  paid  a  bonus  of  three  thou- 
sand dollars." 

"  Then  Tisdale  did  take  that  property  off  your  hands, 
after  all.  I  tried  to  make  myself  believe  he  would;  but 
his  offer  to  buy  hinged  on  the  practicability  of  that  irri- 
gation project." 

"  I  know.  He  found  it  was  practicable  to  carry  it 
out.     But  —  I  gave  the  option  to  Mr.  Banks." 

"  Lucky  Banks,"  questioned  Foster  incredulously,  "  of 
Iditarod?  Why,  he  talked  of  a  big  farming  scheme  in 
Alaska." 

"  I  do  not  know  about  that.  But  he  had  thought  a 
great  deal  of  David.  They  had  been  partners,  it  seems, 
in  Alaska.  Once,  in  a  dreadful  blizzard,  he  almost  per- 
ished, and  David  rescued  him.  He  knew  about  the  pro- 
ject and  offered  to  make  the  payment  of  three  thousand 
dollars  to  hold  the  land  until  he  found  out  whether  the 
scheme  was  feasible.  I  needed  the  money  very  much. 
There  was  a  debt  it  was  imperative  to  close.  So  I  ac- 
cepted the  bonus  without  waiting  to  let  Mr.  Tisdale  know." 

Foster's  brows  clouded.  "Well,  why  shouldn't  you? 
Tisdale  has  himself  to  blame,  if  he  let  his  opportunity 
go." 

There  was  a  silent  interval.  They  had  reached  the 
brow  of  the  bluff  and,  coming  into  the  teeth  of  the  wind, 
she  dipped  her  head  and  ran  to  gain  the  shelter  of  the 
pavilion.  Then,  while  she  gathered  her  breath,  leaning 
a  little  on  the  parapet  and  looking  off  to  the  broad  sweep 
of  running  sea,  Foster  said :  "  It  was  that  debt  that 
worried  me  up  there  in  the  wilderness.  You  had  referred 
to  it  the  evening  after  the  theater,  a  week  before  I  went 
away.  You  called  it  a  debt  of  honor.  You  laughed  at 
the  time,  but  you  warned  me  it  was  the  hardest  kind  of 
debt  because  an  obligation  to  a  friend  kept  one  contin- 
ually  paying  interest   in   a  hundred   small   ways.     You 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  271 

said  it  was  like  selling  yourself  on  a  perpetual  instalment 
plan.  That  wasn't  the  first  time  you  had  spoken  of  it, 
but  you  seemed  to  feel  the  pressure  more  that  night  and, 
afterwards,  up  there  in  the  north,  I  got  to  thinking  it 
over.  I  blamed  myself  for  not  finding  out  the  truth.  I 
was  afraid  the  loan  was  Frederic  Morganstein's."  He 
paused  and  drew  back  a  step  with  a  quick  uplift  of  his 
aggressive  chin.     "  Was  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes."  She  drew  erect  and  turned  from  the  parapet 
to  meet  his  look.  "  My  note  came  into  his  hands.  But  I 
see  I  must  explain.  It  began  in  a  yearly  subscription  to 
the  Orthopedic  hospital ;  the  one,  you  know,  for  little  de- 
formed children.  I  was  very  interested  when  the  move- 
ment started;  I  sang  at  concerts,  danced  sometimes  you 
remember,  to  help  along  the  fund.  And  I  endowed  a  little 
bed.  David  always  seemed  just  on  the  brink  of  riches 
in  those  days,  his  letters  were  full  of  brilliant  predictions, 
but  when  the  second  annual  payment  fell  due,  I  had  to 
borrow  of  Elizabeth.  She  suggested  it.  She  herself  was 
interested  deeper,  financially,  than  I.  All  the  people  we 
knew,  who  ever  gave  to  charity,  were  eager  to  help  the 
Orthopedic ;  the  ladies  at  the  head  were  our  personal 
friends ;  the  best  surgeons  were  giving  their  services  and 
time.  I  hadn't  the  courage  to  have  my  subscription  dis- 
continued so  soon,  and  I  expected  to  cancel  the  debt  when 
I  heard  again  from  David.  But  the  next  spring  it  was  the 
same ;  I  borrowed  again  from  Elizabeth.  After  that,  when 
she  wanted  to  apply  the  sum  to  the  hospital  building  fund, 
Mrs.  Feversham  advanced  the  money,  and  I  gave  my  note. 
My  bed,  then,  was  given  to  a  little,  motherless  boy.  He 
had  the  dearest,  most  trusting  smile  and  great,  dark  eyes ; 
the  kind  that  talk  to  you.  And  his  father  had  deserted 
him.  That  seems  incredible;  that  a  man  can  leave  his 
own  child,  crippled,  ill,  unprovided  for;  but  it  does  hap- 
pen,  sometimes."     She  paused  to   steady  her  voice  and 


272      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

looked  off  again  from  the  parapet.  "  The  surgeons  were 
greatly  interested  in  the  case,"  she  went  on.  "  They  were 
about  to  perform  an  unusual  operation.  All  his  future 
depended  on  it.  So  —  I  let  my  subscription  run  on ;  so 
much  could  happen  in  a  year.  The  operation  was  a  per- 
fect success,  and  when  the  boy  was  ready  to  go,  one  of 
the  Orthopedic  women  adopted  him.  He  is  the  happiest, 
sturdiest  little  fellow  now. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  summer  when  the  note  fell  due  Mrs. 
Feversham  did  not  care  to  renew  it;  she  was  going  to 
Washington  and  wished  to  use  the  money  in  New  York. 
The  desert  tract  was  all  I  had,  and  when  Mr.  Morgan- 
stein  planned  the  motoring  trip  through  the  mountains 
and  down  to  Portland,  he  offered  to  take  a  day  to  look 
the  land  over.  He  did  not  want  to  encumber  himself  with 
any  more  real  estate,  he  said,  but  would  advise  me  on  its 
possibilities  for  the  market.  An  accident  to  the  car  in 
Snoquaimie  Pass  obliged  him  to  give  up  the  excursion,  and 
Marcia  disposed  of  the  note  to  him.  She  said  it  could 
make  little  difference  to  me  since  her  brother  was  willing 
to  let  the  obligation  rest  until  I  was  ready  to  meet  it. 
I  do  not  blame  her;  there  are  some  things  Marcia  Fever- 
sham  and  I  do  not  see  in  the  same  light.  It  isn't  so  much 
through  custom  and  breeding ;  it's  the  way  we  were  created, 
bone  and  spirit."  Her  voice  broke  but  she  laid  her  hand 
Oil  the  parapet  again  with  a  controlling  grasp  and  added 
evenly,  "  That  is  the  reason  when  Mr.  Banks  came  I  was 
so  ready  to  accept  his  offer." 

"  So,  that  was  your  debt  of  honor  t "  Foster  began  un- 
steadily; the  words  caught  in  his  throat,  and  for  an  in- 
stant her  face  grew  indistinct  through  the  mist  he  could 
not  keep  back  from  his  eyes.  "  You  knew  you  were  trav- 
eling on  thin  ice ;  the  break-up  was  almost  on  you,  yet  you 
handicapped  yourself  with  those  foundlings.  And  you 
never  told  me.     I  could  have  taken  over  that  subscription, 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  273 

I  should  have  been  glad  of  the  chance,  you  must  have 
known  that,  but  you  allowed  me  to  believe  it  was  a  loan 
to  cover  personal  expenses." 

She  met  the  reproach  with  a  little  fleeting  smile. 
"  There  were  times  when  those  accounts  pressed,  I  am  go- 
ing to  admit  that,  in  justice  to  Elizabeth.  She  always 
buoyed  me  through.  I  have  known  her  intimately  for 
years.  We  were  at  Mills  Seminary  together,  and  even 
then  she  was  the  most  dependable,  resourceful,  generous 
girl  in  the  school.  I  never  should  have  had  the  courage 
to  dispose  of  things  —  for  money  —  but  she  ofi^ered  to. 
Once  it  was  the  bracelet  that  had  been  my  great-grand- 
mother's; the  serpent,  you  remember,  with  jewelled  scales 
and  fascinating  ruby  eyes.  The  Japanese  consul  bought 
it  for  his  wife.  And  once  it  was  that  dagger  the  first 
American  Don  Silva  wore.  The  design  was  Moorish,  you 
know,  with  a  crescent  in  the  hilt  of  unique  stones.  The 
collector  who  wanted  it  promised  to  give  me  the  oppor- 
tunity to  redeem  it  if  ever  he  wished  to  part  with  it,  and 
Elizabeth  had  the  agreement  written  and  signed." 

"  Like  a  true  Morganstein.  But  I  knew  how  much 
she  thought  of  you.  I  used  to  remind  myself,  up  there 
in  the  Iditarod  wilderness,  that  you  had  her  clear,  prac- 
tical sense  and  executive  ability  to  rely  on." 

"  That  has  been  my  one  rare  good-fortune ;  to  have 
had  Elizabeth.  Not  that  I  depreciate  my  other  friends," 
and  she  gave  Foster  another  fleeting  smile.  "  There  was 
Mrs.  Brown  who  in  the  autumn,  when  I  saw  the  necessity 
to  give  up  my  apartment  at  Vivian  Court,  asked  me  to 
stay  in  exchange  for  piano  and  dancing  lessons.  I  had 
often  taught  her  little  girls  for  pleasure,  they  were  so 
sweet  and  lovable,  when  they  visited  in  my  rooms.  Still, 
afterwards,  I  learned  the  suggestion  came  from  Elizabeth. 
Now  you  know  everything,"  she  added  with  determined 
gaiety.     "  And  I  have  had  my  draught   of  ozone.     We 


274      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

must  hurry  back,  or  they  will  wonder  what  has  become 
of  us." 

She  turned  to  the  path,  and  the  young  engineer  fol- 
lowed in  silence.  He  did  not  know  everything;  deep  in 
his  heart  the  contradiction  burned.  Whatever  may  have 
caused  her  exhilaration  at  the  time  the  AquUa  arrived, 
it  was  not  his  return,  and  while  her  explanations  satisfied 
him  that  she  was  in  no  immediate  financial  distress,  he 
felt  that  her  confidence  covered  unplumbed  depths  she  did 
not  wish  him  to  sound. 

They  had  reached  the  footbridge  over  the  cascade  when 
he  said  abruptly :  "  After  all,  I  am  glad  Lucky  Banks 
got  ahead  on  the  irrigation  project.  He  will  find  it  feas- 
ible, if  any  one  can.  He  grew  up  on  an  Oregon  farm, 
and  what  he  hasn't  learned  about  sluicing  in  Alaska  isn't 
worth  knowing.     It  leaves  HoUis  Tisdale  no  alternative." 

She  turned  waiting,  with  inquiry  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  mean  in  regard  to  the  Aurora,  He  hasn't  the  sav- 
ing grace  of  an  excuse,  now,  not  to  convey  that  last 
half  interest  back  to  you." 

"  I  do  not  want  a  half  interest  in  the  Aurora  mine." 
She  drew  herself  very  straight,  swaying  a  little  on  the 
balls  of  her  feet.  "  You  must  not  suggest  it.  I  should 
not  accept  it  even  through  a  United  States  court.  It  be- 
longs to  Mr.  Tisdale.  He  furnished  the  funds  that  made 
my  husband's  prospecting  trip  possible.  And  all  the  gold 
in  Alaska  could  not  repay  him  for  —  what  he  did.  Some- 
times, when  I  think  of  him  alone  on  that  terrible  trail,  he 
stands  out  more  than  a  man.  Epics  have  been  written 
on  less;  it  was  a  friendship  to  be  glorified  in  some  great 
painting  or  bronze.  But  then  he  touched  so  lightly  on 
his  own  part  in  the  story;  in  the  incense  he  burned  to 
David  he  was  obscured." 

Foster  stood  watching  her  in  surprise.  The  color  that 
the  wind  had  failed  to  whip  back  to  her  cheeks  burned  now, 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  275 

two  brilliant  spots ;  raindrops,  or  tears,  hung  trembling 
on  her  lashes,  and  through  them  flamed  the  blue  fires  of 
her  eyes. 

"  So,"  he  said  slowly,  "  so,  Tisdale  did  hunt  you  up, 
after  all ;  and,  of  course,  you  had  the  whole  hard  story 
from  him." 

"  I  heard  him  tell  it,  yes,  but  he  left  out  about  the 
—  wolves." 

"  Wolves  ^  "  repeated  Foster  incredulously.  "  There 
were  no  wolves.  Why,  to  be  overtaken  by  a  pack,  single- 
handed,  on  the  trail,  is  the  worst  that  can  happen  to  a 
man." 

She  nodded.  "  Mr.  Banks  told  me.  He  had  talked 
with  the  miners  who  found  him.  It  was  terrible."  A 
great  shudder  ran  through  her  body;  for  a  moment  she 
pressed  her  fingers  to  her  eyes,  then  she  added  with  diffi- 
culty, almost  in  a  whisper:    "He  was  defending  David." 

"  No,  no  !  Great  Scott !  But  see  here," —  Foster  laid 
his  hand  on  her  arm  and  drew  her  on  down  the  path, 
"  don't  try  to  tell  me  any  more.  I  understand.  Banks 
shouldn't  have  told  you.  Come,  remember  Tisdale  won 
through.     He's  safe." 

After  a  silence,  she  said :  "  I  doubt  if  you  know  how  ill 
he  has  been." 

"  Tisdale  ?     No,  I  hadn't  heard." 

"  I  only  learned  to-day ;  and  he  has  been  in  a  Washing- 
ton hospital  all  these  months.  The  surgeons  advised  am- 
putating his  hand,"  she  went  on  with  a  tremulous  breath- 
lessness,  "  but  he  refused.  He  said  he  would  take  the 
risk;  that  right  hand  was  more  than  half  of  him,  his 
'  better  half.'  " 

Involuntarily  Foster  smiled  in  recognition  of  that  dom- 
inant note  in  Tisdale.  "  But  he  never  seemed  more  phys- 
ically fit  than  on  the  night  I  left  Seattle,"  he  expostulated. 
*'And  there  isn't  a  man  in  Alaska  who  understands  the 


276      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

dangers  and  the  precautions  of  frostbite  better  than  Hol- 
lis  Tisdale  does." 

"  It  was  not  frost ;  it  was  a  vicious  horse,"  she  an- 
swered. "  It  happened  after  you  saw  him,  on  that  trip  to 
Wenatchee,  while  he  was  leading  the  vixen  over  a  break  in 
the  road.  We  were  obliged  to  spend  the  night  at  a 
wretched  way-house,  and  the  hurt  became  infected." 

Foster  stopped.  "  You  were  obliged  to  spend  the 
night  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes.  It  happened  in  this  way.  Mr.  Tisdale  had 
taken  the  Milwaukee  line  over  the  mountains,  intending 
to  finish  the  trip  on  horseback,  to  see  the  country,  and  I, 
you  remember,  was  motoring  through  Snoqualmie  Pass 
with  the  Morgansteins.  His  train  barely  missed  collid- 
ing with  our  car.  Mr.  Morganstein  was  injured,  and  the 
others  took  the  westbound  home  with  him,  but  I  decided 
to  board  the  eastbound  and  go  on  by  stage  to  Wenatchee, 
to  see  my  desert  tract,  and  return  by  way  of  the  Great 
Northern.  I  found  the  stage  service  discontinued,  so  Mr. 
Tisdale  secured  a  team  instead  of  a  saddle-horse,  and  we 
drove  across." 

"  I  see."  Foster  smiled  again.  So  Tisdale  had  capit- 
ulated on  sight.  "  I  see.  You  looked  the  tract  over  to- 
gether, yet  he  hesitated  with  his  offer." 

She  did  not  answer  directly.  They  had  reached  the 
pergola,  and  she  put  out  her  hand  groping,  steadying  her- 
self through  the  shadows.  "  Mr.  Tisdale  believed  at  the 
beginning  I  was  some  one  else,"  she  said  then.  "  I  was 
so  entirely  different  from  his  conception  of  David  Weath- 
erbee's  wife.  In  the  end  he  offered  to  finance  the  project 
if  I  would  see  it  carried  through.     I  refused." 

"  Of  course  you  refused,"  responded  Foster  quickly. 
"  It  was  preposterous  of  him  to  ask  it  of  you.  I  can't 
understand  it  in  Tisdale.  He  was  always  so  broad,  so 
fine,   so  head  and  shoulders   above  other  men,   so,  well, 


FOSTER'S  HOUR  277 

chivalrous  to  women.  But,  meantime,  while  he  hesitated, 
Banks  came  with  his  offer?  " 

"  Yes.  While  he  was  desperately  ill  in  that  hospital. 
I  —  I  don't  know  what  he  will  think  of  me  —  when  he 
hears  — "  she  went  on  with  little,  steadying  pauses.  "  It 
is  difficult  to  explain.  So  much  happened  on  that  drive 
to  the  Wenatchee  valley.  In  the  end,  during  an  electrical 
storm,  he  saved  me  from  a  falling  tree.  What  he  asked 
of  me  was  so  very  little,  the  weight  of  a  feather,  against 
all  I  owe  him.  Still,  a  woman  does  not  allow  even  such 
a  man  to  finance  her  affairs;  people  never  would  have 
understood.  Besides,  how  could  I  have  hoped,  in  a  life- 
time, to  pay  the  loan.?  It  was  the  most  barren,  desolate 
place ;  a  deep,  dry  gulf  shut  in  by  a  wicked  mountain  — 
you  can't  imagine  —  and  I  told  him  I  never  could  live 
there,  make  it  my  home."  They  were  nearly  through  the 
pergola;  involuntarily  she  stopped  and,  looking  up  at 
Foster,  the  light  from  a  Japanese  lantern  illumined  her 
small,  troubled  face.  "  But  in  spite  of  everything,"  she 
went  on,  "  he  believes  differently.  To-day  his  first  mes- 
sage came  from  Washington  to  remind  me  he  had  not 
forgotten  the  project.  How  can  I —  when  he  is  so  ill 
—  how  can  I  let  him  know  ?  " 

Foster  had  had  his  hour;  and,  at  this  final  moment, 
he  sounded  those  hitherto  unplumbed  depths.  "  It  will 
be  all  right,"  he  said  steadily ;  "  wait  until  you  see  what 
Lucky  Banks  does.  You  can  trust  him  not  to  stand  in 
Tisdale's  way.  And  don't  think  I  underrate  Hollis  Tis- 
dale.  He  is  a  man  in  a  thousand.  No  one  knows  that 
better  than  I.  And  that's  why  I  am  going  to  hold  him 
to  his  record." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"  AS    MAN    TO    MAN  " 

IN  January,  when  Mrs.  Feversham  returned  to  Wash- 
ington, her  brother  accompanied  her  as  far  as  Wenat- 
chee.  He  went  prepared  to  offer  Banks  as  high  as  five 
thousand  dollars  for  his  option. 

At  that  time  the  Weatherbee  tract  was  blanketed  in 
snow.  It  never  drifted,  because  Cerberus  shut  out  the 
prevailing  wind  like  a  mighty  door;  even  the  bench  and 
the  high  ridge  beyond  lifted  above  the  levels  of  the  vale 
smooth  as  upper  floors.  Previous  to  that  rare  precipita- 
tion, gangs  of  men,  put  to  work  on  both  quarter  sec- 
tions, had  removed  the  sage-brush  and  planted  trees,  and 
the  new  orchard  traced  a  delicate  pattern  on  the  white 
carpet  in  rows  and  squares.  Banks  had  hurried  the  con- 
crete lining  of  the  basin  walls,  and  when  it  became  neces- 
sary to  suspend  construction  on  the  flumes,  he  saw  with 
satisfaction  that  the  reservoir  would  husband  the  melting 
snows  and  so  supply  temporary  irrigation  in  the  early 
spring.  All  the  lumber  estimates  had  been  included  in  his 
orders  for  building  material  in  the  autumn,  and  already 
the  house  on  the  bench  showed  a  tiled  roof  above  its  mis- 
sion walls,  while  down  the  gap  and  midway  up  the  side 
slope  of  Cerberus  rose  the  shingled  gables  of  Annabel's 
home. 

To  facilitate  the  handling  of  freight,  the  railroad  com- 
pany had  laid  a  siding  at  the  nearest  point  in  Hesperides 
Vale ;  then,  for  the  convenience  of  the  workmen,  the  daily 
local  made  regular  stops,  and  the  little  station  bore  the 


"AS  MAN  TO  MAN"  279 

name  of  Weatherbee.  Later,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
it  had  become  a  post-office,  and  the  Federal  building  in- 
cluded a  general  store.  Also,  at  that  time,  the  girders 
of  a  new  brick  block  rose  on  the  adjoining  lots,  and  a 
sign  secured  to  the  basement  wall  announced :  "  Thi^ 
strictly  modern  building  will  be  completed  about  June 
first.     For  office  and  floor  space  see  Henderson  Bailey." 

The  financier,  who  had  motored  up  the  valley  in  a  rented 
car,  noted  these  indications  of  an  embryo  town  with  inter- 
est. 

"  Who  is  Henderson  Bailey?  "  he  asked. 

And  the  chauffeur  answered  with  surprise :  "  Don't 
you  know  Bailey?  Why,  he's  the  man  that  got  in  on  the 
ground  floor.  He  owns  the  heart  of  Hesperides  Vale. 
That  was  his  apple  orchard  we  passed,  you  remember,  a 
few  minutes  ago.  But  the  man  who  is  backing  him  on 
that  brick  block  is  Lucky  Banks  of  Alaska.  They  are 
pulling  together,  nip  and  tuck,  for  Weatherbee." 

"  Nip  —  and  Tuck,"  repeated  Morganstein  thought- 
fully. "  That  reminds  me  of  a  young  team  of  bays  I  con- 
sidered buying  last  fall,  over  at  North  Yakima.  Rather 
well  named,  if  you  knew  'em.  But  they  were  a  little  too 
gay  for  Seattle  hills  and  the  lady  I  expected  would  drive 
'em.  George,  though,  they  made  a  handsome  showing. 
A  dealer  named  Lighter  owned  'em,  and  they  won  the 
blue  ribbon  for  three-year-olds  at  Yakima  and  Spokane." 

"  I  know  them,"  replied  the  chauffeur.  "  They  are 
owned  here  in  the  valley  now;  and  Lucky  Banks'  wife  is 
driving  them.  You  can  meet  her  most  any  day  speeling 
down  to  the  Columbia  to  see  her  goats." 

"  Goats  ?  "  queried  Frederic. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Didn't  you  know  she  used  to  keep  a  flock 
of  Angoras  up  here?  It  was  her  land  before  she  was 
married.  But  when  Banks  turned  up  with  his  pile  and 
started  the  orchards,  the  goats  had  to  go.     It  wouldn't 


280      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

have  taken  them  a  week  to  chew  up  every  stick  he  planted. 
So  she  hired  a  man  to  winter  them  down  on  the  Columbia, 
where  she  could  keep  an  eye  on  them.  Strange,"  the 
chauffeur  went  on  musingly,  "what  a  difference  clothes 
make  in  a  woman.  Nobody  noticed  her  much,  only  we 
thought  she  was  kind  of  touched,  when  she  was  herding 
those  billies  by  herself  up  that  pocket,  but  the  minute 
Banks  came,  she  blossomed  out;  made  us  all  sit  up  and 
take  notice.  Yes,  sir,  she's  sure  some  style.  To  see 
her  in  her  up-to-date  motoring-coat,  veil  to  match,  cape 
gloves,  and  up  behind  that  team,  you'd  think  the  Empress 
of  India  had  the  road." 

"  Just  what  I  said  first  time  I  saw  her,"  Morganstein 
chuckled  thickly.  "  Or  I  guess  it  was  the  Queen  of  Sheba 
I  called  her.  Happened  to  be  grand-opera  night,  and 
she  wore  a  necklace  made  of  some  of  Banks'  nuggets. 
George,  she  could  carry  'em ;  had  the  throat  and  shoulders. 
It  isn't  the  clothes  that  make  the  difference,  my  boy;  it's 
the  trick  of  wearing  'em.  I  know  a  slim  little  thorough- 
bred, who  puts  on  a  plain  gray  silk  like  it  was  cloth  of 
gold.  You'd  think  she  was  walking  tiptoe  to  keep  it  off 
this  darned  old  earth.  Lord,  I'd  like  to  see  her  in  the 
real  stuff.  George,  I'll  do  it,  soon's  we're  married,"  and 
he  laughed  deeply  at  the  notion.  "  I'll  order  a  cloth 
of  gold  gown  direct  from  Paris,  and  I'll  set  a  diamond 
tiara  on  her  proud  little  head.  Bet  it  don't  out-sparkle 
her  eyes.     Lord,  Lord,  she'U  make  'em  all  stare." 

The  chauffeur'  gave  the  financier  a  measuring  glance 
from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  but  he  puckered  his  lips  dis- 
creetly to  cover  a  grin,  and  with  his  head  still  cocked  side- 
wise,  looked  off  to  the  lifting  front  of  Cerberus,  whist- 
ling softly  Queen  Among  the  Heather.  But  the  tune 
ceased  abruptly  and,  straightening  like  an  unstrung  bow, 
he  swerved  the  machine  out  of  the  thoroughfare  and 
brought  it  to  a  stop. 


"AS  MAN  TO  MAN"  281 

It  was  not  the  Empress  of  India  who  held  the  road, 
but  little  Banks  in  his  red  car.  Slackening  speed,  he 
shouted  back  above  the  noise  of  the  exhaust :  "  Hello ! 
Is  that  you,  Mr.  Morganstein?  I  guess  likely  you're 
looking  for  me.  But  I  can't  stop.  I've  got  to  catch  the 
local  for  Wenatchee ;  the  eastbound  don't  make  our  sta- 
tion, and  I'm  booked  for  a  little  run  through  to  Wash- 
ington, D.  C." 

"  That  so  ?  "  answered  Morganstein  thoughtfully.  "  I 
came  over  just  to  look  at  this  orchard  of  yours.  See  here, 
wait  a  minute."  He  unbuttoned  his  heavy  coat  and,  find- 
ing a  pocket,  drew  out  a  time-card.  "  You  will  have  a 
couple  of  hours  to  waste  in  Wenatchee  between  trains. 
Give  me  half  an  hour,  long  enough  to  show  me  a  bird's- 
eye  view  of  the  project  —  that's  all  I  want  in  this  snow 
and  I  guarantee  to  put  you  in  Wenatchee  on  time  for 
your  eastbound.  The  road  is  in  good  shape;  driver 
knows  his  car." 

Banks  left  his  roadster  and  came  over  to  the  larger 
car.  "  I'll  risk  it  since  you've  broke  trail,"  he  said,  tak- 
ing the  vacant  seat  behind.  "  But  I  knew  if  I  took 
chances  with  snow,  in  this  contrary  buzz-wagon  of  mine, 
she'd  likely  skid  off  the  first  mean  curve." 

Morganstein,  laughing,  changed  his  seat  for  the  one 
beside  the  prospector..  "  It's  like  this,  dry  and  firm  as  a 
floor,  straight  through  to  Wenatchee.  These  are  great 
roads  you  have  in  this  valley ;  wish  we  had  'em  on  the  other 
side  the  range." 

"  I  sent  a  scraper  up  from  the  station  ahead  of  me," 
said  Banks.  "  And,  driver,  we  may  as  well  run  up  the 
switchback  to  the  house.  It's  level  there,  with  room  to 
turn.  And  it  will  give  you  the  chance  to  see  the  whole 
layout  below,"  he  went  on,  explaining  to  Morganstein. 
"  The  property  on  this  side  the  mountain  belongs  to  my 
wife,  but  we  ain't  living  here  yet;  we  are  stopping  vith 


282      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

folks  down  by  the  station.  Likely  we'll  move,  soon's  I 
get  back  from  my  trip.  That  is,  if  the  boys  get  busy. 
Seem's  if  I  have  to  keep  after  some  of  them  all  the  time. 
To-day  it's  the  lathers.  I've  got  to  stop,  going  through 
Weatherbee,  to  tell  my  wife  to  have  an  eye  on  them.  They 
get  paid  by  the  bundle,  and  they  told  me  this  morning 
lathe  would  run  short  before  they  was  through.  I  knew 
I  had  ordered  an  extra  hundred  on  the  architect's  figgers, 
but  I  didn't  say  anything.  Just  prospected  'round  and 
came  back  unexpected,  and  caught  one  of  them  red-handed. 
He  was  tucking  a  bunch  between  the  ceiling  and  the  upper 
floor,  without  even  cutting  the  string.  I  made  them  rip 
off  the  lathe,  and  there  they  were  stored  thick,  a  full 
bundle  to  'bout  every  three  they'd  nailed  on." 

"  That's  the  way,"  commented  Morganstein,  "  every 
man  of  'em  will  do  you,  if  he  sees  a  chance.  Mrs.  Banks 
will  have  to  keep  both  eyes  open,  if  you  are  leaving  it 
to  her.  But  it  will  be  compensation  to  her,  I  guess,  driv- 
ing those  bays  over  from  the  station  every  day.  Hand- 
somest team  in  Washington.  I'll  bet,"  and  he  turned 
his  narrow  eyes  suddenly  on  Banks,  "  Lighter  held  you  up 
for  all  they  were  worth." 

"  The  team  belongs  to  Hollis  Tisdale,"  answered 
Banks.  "  He  bought  them  at  Kittitas  last  fall  and  drove 
them  through.  They  were  in  the  valley  when  I  came, 
and  he  asked  me  to  look  after  them  while  he  was  east. 
My  wife  exercises  them.  She  understands  horses,  my,  yes. 
One  of  those  colts  had  a  mean  trick  of  snapping  at  you 
if  you  touched  the  bit,  but  she  cured  him  complete. 
And  she  took  such  a  shine  to  that  team  I  thought  likely 
they'd  do  for  a  Christmas  present.  Tisdale  told  me  in  the 
fall  if  I  had  a  good  chance,  to  sell,  so  I  wrote  and  made 
him  an  offer.  But  his  answer  never  came  till  last  night. 
A  nurse  at  the  hospital  in  Washington  wrote  for  him; 
he  had  been  laid  up  with  a  case  of  blood-poison  all  win- 


"AS  MAN  TO  MAN"  283 

ter,  and  it  started  from  a  nip  that  blame'  colt  gave  him 
on  the  trip  from  Kittitas.  He  refused  my  price  because, 
seeing's  the  team  wasn't  safe  for  a  full-sized  man  to  drive, 
it  went  against  his  conscience  to  let  them  go  to  a  lady." 

"  He  was  right,"  said  Morganstein.  "  George,  that 
was  a  lucky  escape.  I  was  within  an  ace  of  buying  that 
team  myself.  But  I  put  down  Tisdale's  sickness  to  frost- 
bite; often  goes  that  way  with  a  man  in  the  north." 

"  Sure ;  it  does."  Banks  paused,  while  his  glance  fell 
to  the  empty  fingers  of  his  right  glove.  "  But  that  colt, 
Nip,  gets  the  credit  this  time.  It  happened  while  Hollis 
was  trying  to  lead  him  over  a  break  in  the  road.  He  said 
it  didn't  amount  to  anything,  the  night  I  saw  him  before 
he  left  Seattle,  but  he  had  the  hand  bandaged,  and  I'd 
ought  to  have  known  it  was  giving  him  trouble." 

Morganstein  pondered  a  silent  moment,  then  said 
slowly,  "  Kittitas  is  close  enough  to  be  a  suburb  of  El- 
lensburg,  and  that's  where  the  Wenatchee  stage  meets  the 
Milwaukee  Puget  Sound  train.  Friend  of  mine  made  the 
trip  about  that  time;  didn't  say  anything  of  a  break  in 
the  road." 

"  There's  just  one  road  through,"  answered  Banks, 
*'  and  that's  the  one  they  used  for  hauling  from  the  North- 
em  Pacific  line  while  this  railroad  was  building.  Likely 
there  was  a  stage  then,  but  it  ain't  running  now." 

Frederic  pondered  again,  then  a  gleam  of  intelligence 
flashed  in  his  eyes.  "  Did  Tisdale  make  that  trip  from 
Kittitas  alone  ?  "  he  asked. 

Banks  shook  his  head.  "  He  didn't  mention  any  pas- 
sengers. Likely  it  was  having  to  drive  himself,  after  his 
hand  was  hurt,  that  did  the  mischief.  Anyhow,  he's  had 
a  close  call;  fought  it  out  sooner  than  let  the  doctors 
take  his  hand ;  and  he  never  let  one  of  us  boys  know.  That 
was  just  the  way  with  Dave  Weatherbee;  they  was  a  team. 
But  I'm  going  to  look  him  up,  now,  soon's  I  can.     He  had 


284      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  get  that  nurse  to  write  for  him.  Likely  there  ain't 
a  man  around  to  tend  to  his  business ;  he  might  be  all  out 
of  money." 

"  I  guess,  with  the  Aurora  mine  to  back  him,  you 
needn't  worry." 

The  little  man  shook  his  head.  "  It  will  take  more 
security  than  the  Aurora  to  open  a  bank  account  in  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.  I  ain't  saying  anything  against  Dave 
Weatherbee's  strike,"  he  added  quickly,  "  but,  when  you 
talk  Alaska  to  those  fellows  off  there  in  the  east,  they  get 
cold  feet." 

Morganstein  looked  oif,  chuckling  his  appreciation. 
They  had  arrived  at  the  final  curve ;  on  one  side,  rising 
from  the  narrow  shoulder,  stood  Annabel's  new  home,  while 
on  the  other  the  mountain  sloped  abruptly  to  Weather- 
bee's  vale.  Banks  pointed  out  the  peach  orchard  on  the 
bench  at  the  top  of  the  pocket;  the  rim  of  masonry,  push- 
ing through  the  snow,  that  marked  the  reservoir ;  the  apple 
tract  below. 

"  I  see,"  said  Frederic,  "  and  this  mountain  we  are  on 
must  be  the  one  Mrs.  Weatherbee  noticed,  looking  down 
from  that  bench.     Reminded  her  of  some  kind  of  a  beast  1 " 

Banks  nodded.  "  It  looked  like  a  cross  between  a  cougar 
and  a  husky  in  the  fall.  One  place  you  catch  sight  of 
two  heads.  But  she'll  be  tamer  in  the  spring,  when  things 
begin  to  grow.  There's  more  peaches,  set  in  narrow  ter- 
races where  the  road  cross-cuts  down  there,  and  all  these 
small  hummocks  under  the  snow  are  grapes.  It's  warm 
on  this  south  slope  and  sheltered  from  the  frosts ;  the  vines 
took  right  ahold;  and,  with  fillers  of  strawberries  hurry- 
ing on  the  green,  Dave's  wife  won't  know  the  mountain  by 
summer,  my,  no.'* 

"  Presume,"  said  the  financier  abruptly,  "  you  expect 
to  supply  both  tracts  with  water  from  those  springs  ?  " 

"  My,  no.     This  quarter  section  belongs  to  my  wife, 


"AS  MAN  TO  MAN"  285 

and  it's  up  to  me  to  make  the  water  connections  safe  for 
her.  I  can  do  it."  Banks  set  his  lips  grimly,  and  his 
voice  shrilled  a  higher  key.  "  Yes,  sir,  even  if  I  have  to 
tunnel  through  from  the  Wenatchee.  But  I  think  likely 
I'll  tap  the  new  High  Line  and  rig  a  flume  with  one  of 
these  new-style  electric  pumps.  And  my  idea  would  be 
to  hollow  out  a  nice  little  reservoir,  with  maybe  a  fountain, 
right  here  on  this  shoulder  alongside  the  house,  and  let  a 
sluice  and  spillways  follow  the  road  down.  There'd  be 
water  handy  then,  and  to  spare,  in  case  Dave's  springs 
happen  to  pinch  out." 

Morganstein's  glance  moved  slowly  over  the  sections  of 
road  cross-cutting  the  mountain  below,  and  on  up  the  vale 
to  the  distant  bench.  Presently  he  said :  "  What  are 
you  building  over  there.?  A  bam,  or  is  it  a  winery  for 
your  grapes  ?  " 

"  It's  neither,"  answered  Banks  with  sharp  emphasis. 
"  It's  a  regular,  first-class  house.  Dave  Weatherbee  was 
counting  on  striking  it  rich  in  Alaska  when  he  drew  the 
plans.  The  architect  calls  it  California-Spanish  style. 
The  rooms  are  built  around  a  court,  and  we  are  piping 
for  the  fountain  now." 

Frederic  grew  thoughtful.  Clearly  an  offer  of  five 
thousand  dollars  for  Lucky  Banks'  option  on  the 
Weatherbee  tract  was  inadequate.  After  a  moment  he 
said :     "  What  is  it  going  to  cost  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  counting  that  house  complete,  without  the 
furniture,   seven   thousand  would  be  cheap." 

After  that  the  financier  was  silent.  He  looked  at  his 
watch,  as  they  motored  down  Cerberus,  considering,  per- 
haps, the  probabilities  of  a  telegram  reaching  Marcia ;  but 
he  did  not  make  the  venture  when  they  arrived  in  Wenat- 
chee, and  the  nearest  approach  he  made  to  that  offer  was 
while  he  and  Banks  were  waiting  at  the  station  for  their 
separate  trains.     They  were  seated  together  on  a  bench 


286      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

at  the  time,  and  Frederic,  having  lighted  a  cigar,  drew 
deeply  as  though  he  hoped  to  gather  inspiration.  Then 
he  edged  closer  and,  dropping  his  heavy  hand  on  the  little 
prospector's  shoulder,  said  thickly :  "  See  here,  tell  me 
this,  as  man  to  man,  if  you  found  both  those  tracts  too 
big  to  handle,  what  would  you  take  for  your  option  on 
the  Weatherbee  property  ?  " 

And  Banks,  edging  away  to  the  end  of  the  seat,  answered 
sharply :     "  I  can  handle  both ;  my  option  ain't  for  sale." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    DAY    OF    PUBLICATION 

IT  was  a  mild  evening,  the  last  in  February,  and  Jimmie, 
who  had  received  two  copies  of  the  March  issue  of 
Sampson's  Magazine  direct  from  the  publisher,  celebrated 
the  event  by  taking  the  Society  Editor  canoeing  on  Lake 
Washington.  Instead  of  helping  with  the  bow  paddle,  of 
which  she  was  fully  capable.  Miss  Atkins  settled  against 
the  pillows  facing  him,  with  the  masterpiece  in  her  lap. 
The  magazine  was  closed,  showing  his  name  among  the 
specially  mentioned  on  the  cover,  but  she  kept  the  place 
with  her  finger.  She  had  a  pretty  hand,  and  it  was 
adorned  by  the  very  best  diamond  that  could  be  bought 
at  Hanson's  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

She  waited,  watching  Jimmie's  stroke,  while  the  Peter- 
boro  slipped  out  from  the  boathouse  and  rose  quartering 
to  the  swells  of  a  passing  launch.  Her  hat  was  placed 
carefully  behind  her  in  the  bow,  and  the  light  wind  rough- 
ened her  hair,  which  was  parted  on  the  side,  into  small 
rings  on  her  forehead.  It  gave  her  an  air  of  boyish  cam- 
araderie, and  the  young  author's  glance,  moving  from  the 
magazine  and  the  ring,  swept  her  whole  trim  figure  to  the 
mannish,  flat-heeled  little  shoes,  and  returned  to  her  face. 
"  This  is  my  red-letter  day,"  he  said. 

"  It's  the  proudest  in  my  life,"  answered  Geraldine,  and 
the  way  in  which  she  said  it  made  him  catch  his  breath. 

"  It  makes  me  feel  almost  sure  enough  to  cut  loose  from 
the  Press  and  go  into  business  for  myself." 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  be  in  a  hurry  to  leave  the  paper,  if 


288      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

I  were  jou,"  she  replied,  "  even  though  Sampson^s  has 
asked  to  see  more  of  your  work." 

"It  isn't  the  magazine  opening  I  am  considering; 
though  I  shall  do  what  I  can  in  that  way,  of  course.  But 
what  would  you  think  of  an  offer  to  take  full  charge  of  a 
newspaper  east  of  the  Cascades.?  It's  so."  He  paused, 
nodding  in  emphasis  to  the  confirmation.  "  The  letter  is 
there  in  my  coat  pocket.  It's  from  Bailey  —  you  remem- 
ber that  young  fellow  I  told  you  about  who  made  an  in- 
vestment in  the  Wenatchee  valley.  Well,  it  seems  they 
have  incorporated  a  town  on  some  of  that  property.  His 
city  lots  are  selling  so  fast  he  has  raised  the  price  three 
times.  And  they  have  put  him  up  for  mayor.  He  says 
it's  mighty  hard  to  run  an  election  without  a  newspaper, 
and  even  if  it's  a  late  start,  we  will  be  ready  next  time. 
And  the  valley  needs  advertising ;  people  in  the  east  don't 
know  where  Wenatchee  apples  grow.  You  understand. 
He  will  finance  a  newspaper  —  or  rather  he  and  Lucky 
Banks  are  going  to  —  if  I  will  take  the  management. 
He  is  holding  offices  now,  in  a  brick  block  that  is  build- 
ing, until  he  hears  from  me." 

"  Is  it  in  Hesperides  Vale,  where  the  Bankses  live.?  " 

"  Yes.  The  name  of  the  town  is  Weatherbee.  And  I 
heard  from  that  little  miner,  too."  Jimmie  paused,  smil- 
ing at  the  recollection.  "  It  was  a  kind  of  supplement  to 
Bailey's  letter.  He  thought  likely  I  could  recommend 
some  young  fellow  to  start  a  newspaper.  A  married  man 
was  preferred,  as  it  was  a  new  camp  and  in  need  of  more 
ladies." 

Geraldine  laughed,  flushing  softly.  "  Isn't  that  just 
like  him  ?  "  she  said.     "  I  can  see  his  eyes  twinkling." 

"  It  sounds  rather  good  to  me,"  Jimmie  went  on  ear- 
nestly. "  I  have  confidence  in  Bailey.  And  it  was 
mother's  dream,  you  know,  to  see  me  establish  a  paper 
over  there ;  it  would  mean  something  to  me  to  see  it  real- 


THE  DAY  OF  PUBLICATION      289 

ized  —  but  —  do  you  think  you  could  give  up  your  career 
to  help  me  through  ?  " 

Geraldine  was  silent,  and  Jimmie  leaned  forward  a  lit- 
tle, resting  on  his  stroke.  "  I  know  I  am  not  worth  it, 
but  so  far  as  that  goes,  neither  was  my  father ;  yet  mother 
gave  up  everything  to  back  him.  She  kept,  him  on  that 
desert  homestead  the  first  five  years,  until  he  proved  up 
and  got  his  patent,  and  he  might  have  stayed  with  it,  been 
rich  to-day,  if  she  had  lived." 

"  Of  course  I  like  you  awfully  well,"  said  Geraldine, 
flushing  pinkly,  "  and  it  isn't  that  I  haven't  every  confi- 
dence in  you,  but  —  I  must  take  a  little  time  to  decide." 

A  steamer  passed,  and  Jimmie  resumed  his  strokes,  me- 
chanically turning  the  canoe  out  of  the  trough.  Geral- 
dine opened  the  magazine  and  began  to  scan  the  editor's 
note  under  the  title.  "  Why,"  she  exclaimed  tremulously, 
"  did  you  know  about  this  ?     Did  you  see  the  proofs  ?  " 

"No.     What  is  the  excitement?     Isn't  it  straight?" 

"  Listen !  "  Miss  Atkins  sat  erect ;  the  cushion  dropped 
under  her  elbow;  her  lips  closed  firmly  between  the  sen- 
tences she  read. 

"  '  This  is  one  of  those  true  stories  stranger  than  fic- 
tion. This  man,  who  wantonly  murdered  a  child  in  his 
path  and  told  of  it  for  the  amusement  of  a  party  of 
pleasure-seekers  aboard  a  yacht  on  Puget  Sound,  who 
should  be  serving  a  prison  sentence  to-day,  yet  never  came 
to  a  trial,  is  HoUis  Tisdale  of  the  Geographical  Survey ;  a 
man  in  high  favor  with  the  administration  and  the  sole 
owner  of  the  fabulously  rich  Aurora  mine  in  Alaska.  The 
widow  of  his  partner  who  made  the  discovery  and  paid  for 
it  with  his  life  is  penniless.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  —  for 
the  testimony  of  a  criminal  is  not  allowable  in  a  United 
States  court  —  Hollis  Tisdale  has  been  called  as  a  wit- 
ness for  the  Government  in  the  pending  Alaska  coal 
trials ! " 


290      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  Society  Editor  met  Jimmie's  appalled  gaze.  "  It 
sounds  muckraky,"  she  commented,  still  tremulously. 
"  But  these  new  magazines  have  to  do  something  to  get  a 
hold.     This  is  just  to  attract  public  attention." 

"  They'll  get  that,  when  Tisdale  brings  a  suit  for  libel. 
Hope  he  will  do  it,  and  that  the  judgment  will  swamp  them. 
They  must  have  got  his  name  from  Mrs.  Feversham." 

"  It  looks  political,"  said  Geraldine  conciliatingly,  "  as 
though  they  were  striking  through  him  at  the  administra- 
tion." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Jimmie  recklessly.  "  Let's  have  it  over 
with." 

And  Geraldine  launched  quickly  into  the  story.  It  had 
been  mercilessly  and  skilfully  abridged.  All  those  under- 
currents of  feeling,  which  Jimmie  had  faithfully  noted, 
had  been  suppressed;  and  of  David  Weatherbee,  whom 
Tisdale  had  made  the  hero  of  the  adventure,  there  was  not 
a  word. 

"  Great  guns ! "  exclaimed  the  unfortunate  author  at 
the  finish.     "  Great  —  guns  !  " 

But  Geraldine  said  nothing.  She  only  closed  the  maga- 
zine and  pushed  it  under  the  pillow  out  of  sight.  There 
was  a  long  silence.  A  first  star  appeared  and  threw  a 
wavering  trail  on  the  lake.  Jimmie,  dipping  his  paddle 
mechanically,  turned  the  Peterboro  into  this  pale  path- 
way. The  pride  and  elation  had  gone  out  of  his  face. 
His  mouth  drooped  disconsolately. 

'^  And  you  called  this  your  proudest  day,"  he  broke 
out  at  last. 

An  unexpected  gentleness  crept  over  the  Society  Edi- 
tor's countenance.  "  It  would  be  great  to  help  create  a 
city,"  she  said  then.  "  To  start  with  it  ourselves,  at  the 
foundations  and  grow."  And  she  added  very  softly,  with 
a  little  break  in  her  voice :  "  I've  decided  to  resign  and 
go  to  Weatherbee." 


CHAPTER  XXrV 


TISDALE,  who  was  expected  to  furnish  important 
testimonj  in  the  Alaska  coal  cases,  had  been  served 
official  notice  at  the  hospital  during  Banks'  visit.  The 
trial  was  set  for  the  twenty-fourth  of  March  and  in 
Seattle. 

The  prospector  had  found  him  braced  up  in  bed,  and 
going  over  the  final  proof  of  his  Matanuska  report,  with 
the  aid  of  a  secretary.  "  You  better  go  slow,  HoUis," 
he  said.  "  You  are  looking  about  as  reliable  as  your 
shadow.  Likely  the  first  puff  of  a  wind  would  lift  you  out 
of  sight.  My,  yes.  But  I  just  ran  over  to  say  hello, 
and  let  you  know  if  it's  the  expense  that's  hurrying  you, 
there's  a  couple  of  thousand  in  the  Wenatchee  bank  I 
can't  find  any  use  for,  now  the  water-works  are  done  and 
the  house.  You  can  have  it  well's  not.  It  ain't  drawing 
any  interest."  And  Tisdale  had  taken  the  little  man's 
hand  between  both  his  own  and  called  him  "  true  gold." 
But  he  was  in  no  pressing  need  of  money,  though  it  was 
possible  he  might  delay  in  refunding  those  sums  Banks 
had  advanced  on  the  project.  He  was  able  enough  to  be 
on  his  feet,  but  these  doctors  were  cautious;  it  might 
be  another  month  before  he  would  be  doing  a  man's  work. 

He  started  west,  allowing  himself  ample  time  to  reach 
Seattle  by  the  fifteenth  of  March,  when  Banks'  option 
expired,  but  the  fourteenth  found  him,  after  three  days  of 
delay  by  floods,  snowbound  in  the  Rockies.  The  morning 
of  the  fifteenth,  while  the  rotaries  were  still  clearing  track 


292      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ahead,  he  made  his  way  back  a  few  miles  to  the  nearest 
telegraph  station  and  got  into  communication  with  the 
mining  man. 

"  How  are  you?  "  came  the  response  from  Weatherbee. 
"  Done  for?  Drop  off  at  Scenic  Hot  Springs,  if  your 
train  comes  through.  She  wrote  she  was  there.  Came 
up  with  a  little  crowd  for  the  coasting.  Take  care  of 
yourself,  and  here  is  to  you. 

"  Lucky." 

And  Tisdale,  with  the  genial  wrinkles  deepening  at  the 
corners  of  his  eyes  once  more,  wired :  "  Fit  as  a  moose. 
Go  fifteenth.     Close  business." 

A  judge  may  pronounce  a  sentence  yet,  at  the  same 
time,  feel  ungovernable  springs  of  sympathy  welling  from 
the  depths  of  his  heart,  and  while  Tisdale  pushed  his  way 
back  to  the  stalled  train,  he  went  over  the  situation  from 
Beatriz  Weatherbee's  side.  He  knew  what  the  sale  of 
that  desert  tract  must  mean  to  her;  how  high  her  hopes 
had  flown  since  the  payment  of  the  bonus.  Looking  for- 
ward to  that  final  interview  when,  notwithstanding  his  im- 
provements. Banks  should  relinquish  his  option,  he  weighed 
her  disappointment.  In  imagination  he  saw  the  light 
go  out  of  her  eyes ;  her  lip,  that  short  upper  lip  with  its 
curves  of  a  bow,  would  quiver  a  little,  and  the  delicate 
nostril;  then,  instantly,  before  she  had  spoken  a  word, 
her  indomitable  pride  would  be  up  like  a  lifted  whip,  to 
sting  her  into  self-control.  Oh,  she  had  the  courage; 
she  would  brave  it  out.  Still,  still,  he  had  intended  to 
be  there,  not  only  to  press  the  ultimate  purpose,  but 
to  —  ease  her  through.  Banks  might  be  abrupt.  He 
was  sorry.  He  was  so^  sorry  that  though  he  had  tramped, 
mushed  a  mile,  he  faced  about,  and,  in  the  teeth  of  a  bitter 
wind,  returned  to  the  station. 


SNOWBOUND  IN  THE  ROCKIES     293 

The  snow  was  falling  thickly;  it  blurred  his  tracks  be- 
hind him;  the  crest  of  a  drift  was  caught  up  and  carried, 
swirling,  into  the  railroad  cut  he  had  left,  and  a  great 
gust  tore  into  the  office  with  him.  The  solitary  operator 
hurried  to  close  the  door  and,  shivering,  stooped  to  put  a 
huge  stick  of  wood  in  the  stove.  "  It's  too  bad,"  he  said. 
"  Forgot  the  main  point,  I  suppose.  If  this  keeps  up, 
and  your  train  moves  to-morrow,  it  will  be  through  a  reg- 
ular snow  canyon.  I  just  got  word  your  head  rotary  is 
out  of  commission,  but  another  is  coming  up  from  the 
east  with  a  gang  of  shovellers.  They'll  stop  here  for 
water.     It's  a  chance  for  you  to  ride  back  to  your  train." 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  wait,"  Tisdale  answered  genially. 
"  But  I  like  walking  in  this  mountain  air.  I  like  it  so 
well  that  if  the  blockade  doesn't  lift  by  to-morrow,  I  am 
going  to  mush  through  and  pick  up  a  special  to  the 
coast." 

While  he  spoke,  he  brushed  the  snow  from  his  shoulders 
and  took  off  his  hat  and  gloves.  He  stood  another  mo- 
ment, rubbing  and  pinching  his  numb  hands,  then  went 
over  to  the  desk  and  filled  a  telegraph  blank.  He  laid 
down  the  exact  amount  of  the  charges  in  silver,  to  which 
he  added  five  dollars  in  gold. 

The  operator  went  around  the  counter  and  picked  up 
the  money.  For  an  instant  his  glance,  moving  from  the 
message,  rested  on  Tisdale's  face  in  curious  surprise. 
This  man  surely  enjoyed  the  mountain  air.  He  had 
tramped  back  in  the  teeth  of  a  growing  blizzard  to  send 
an  order  for  violets  to  Hollywood  Gardens,  Seattle.  The 
flowers  were  to  be  expressed  to  a  lady  at  Scenic  Hot 
Springs. 

After  that  Tisdale  spent  an  interval  moving  restlessly 
about  the  room.  He  read  the  advertisements  on  the  walls, 
studied  the  map  of  the  Great  Northern  route,  and  when 
the  stove  grew  red-hot,  threv/  open  the  door  and  tramped 


294      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  platform  in  the  piping  wind.  Finally,  when  the  key- 
board was  quiet,  the  operator  brought  him  a  magazine. 
The  station  did  not  keep  a  news-stand,  but  a  conductor 
on  the  westbound  had  left  this  for  him  to  read.  There 
was  a  mighty  good  yarn  —  this  was  it  — "  The  Tenas 
Papoose."  It  was  just  the  kind  when  a  man  was  trying 
to  kill  time. 

Tisdale  took  the  periodical.  No,  he  had  not  seen  it 
aboard  the  train ;  there  were  so  many  of  these  new  maga- 
zines, it  was  hard  to  choose.  He  smiled  at  first,  that  edi- 
tor's note  was  so  preposterous,  so  plainly  sensational;  or 
was  it  malicious  ?  He  re-read  it,  knitting  his  brows.  Who 
was  this  writer  Daniels  .^^  His  mind  ran  back  to  that 
day  aboard  the  AquUa,  Aside  from  the  Morgans teins 
and  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  there  had  been  no  one  else  in  the 
party  until  the  lieutenant  was  picked  up  at  Bremerton, 
after  the  adventure  was  told.  But  Daniels — he  glanced 
back  to  be  sure  of  the  author's  name — James  Daniels. 
Now  he  remembered.  That  was  the  irrepressible  young 
fellow  who  had  secured  the  photographs  in  Snoqualmie 
Pass  at  the  time  of  the  accident  to  the  Morganstein  auto- 
mobile ;  who  had  later  interviewed  Mrs.  Weatherbee  on  the 
train.  Had  he  then  sought  her  at  her  hotel,  ostensibly 
to  present  her  with  a  copy  of  the  newspaper  in  which  those 
illustrations  were  published,  and  so  ingratiated  himself 
far  enough  in  her  favor  to  gather  another  story  from  her? 

Tisdale  went  over  to  a  chair  near  the  window  and  be- 
gan to  go  over  those  abridged  columns.  He  turned  the 
page,  and  his  lips  set  grimly.  At  last  he  closed  the  maga- 
zine and  looked  off  through  the  drifting  snow.  He  had 
been  grossly  misrepresented,  and  the  reason  was  clear. 
This  editor,  struggling  to  establish  a  new  periodical,  had 
used  Daniels'  material  to  attract  the  public  eye.  He  may 
even  have  had  political  ambitions  and  aimed  deeper  to 
strike   the   administration   through   him.     He   may   have 


SNOWBOUND  IN  THE  ROCKIES     295 

tai:en  this  method  to  curry  favor  with  certain  moneyed 
men.  Still,  still,  what  object  had  there  been  in  leaving 
Weatherbee  completely  out  of  the  story?  Weatherbee, 
who  should  have  carried  the  leading  role ;  who,  lifting  the 
adventure  high  above  the  sensational,  had  made  it  some- 
thing fine. 

Again  his  thoughts  ran  back  to  that  cruise  on  the 
Aquila.  He  saw  that  group  on  the  after-deck;  Rainier 
lifting  southward  like  a  phantom  mountain  over  the  opal 
sea;  and  westward  the  Olympics,  looming  clear-cut,  vivid 
as  a  scene  in  the  tropics ;  the  purplish  blue  of  the  nearer 
height  sharply  defined  against  the  higher  amethyst  slope 
that  marked  the  gorge  of  the  Dosewallups.  This  setting 
had  brought  the  tragedy  to  his  mind,  and  to  evade  the 
questions  Morganstein  pressed,  he  had  commenced  to  re- 
late the  adventure.  But  afterwards  he  had  found  himself 
going  into  the  more  intimate  detail  with  a  hope  of  reviving 
some  spark  of  appreciation  of  David  in  the  heart  of  his 
wife.  And  he  had  believed  that  he  had.  Still,  who  else, 
in  all  that  little  company,  could  have  had  any  motive  in 
leaving  out  Weatherbee.'*  Why  had  she  told  the  story  at 
all.?  She  was  a  woman  of  great  self-control,  but  also-  she 
had  depths  of  pride.  Had  she,  in  the  high  tide  of  her 
anger  or  pique,  taken  this  means  to  retaliate  for  the  dis- 
appointment he  had  caused  her.'* 

The  approaching  work-train  whistled  the  station.  He 
rose  and  went  back  to  the  operator's  desk  and  filled  an- 
other blank.  This  time  he  addressed  a  prominent  attor- 
ney, and  his  close  friend,  in  Washington,  D.  C.  And  the 
message  ran: 

"  See  Sampson^s  Magfizirve,  March,  page  320.  Find 
whether  revised  or  Daniels'  copy." 

Toward  noon  the  following  day  the  express  began  to 
crawl  cautiously  out,  with  the  rotaries  still  bucking  ahead. 


296      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

through  the  great  snow  canyons.  The  morning  of  the 
sixteenth  he  had  left  Spokane  with  the  great  levels  of  the 
Columbia  desert  stretching  before  him.  And  that  after- 
noon at  Wenatchee,  with  the  white  gates  of  the  Cascades 
a  few  hours  off,  a  messenger  called  his  name  down  the 
aisle.  The  answer  had  come  from  his  attorney.  The 
story  was  straight  copy;  published  as  received. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE    IDES    OF    MAECH 


IN  order  to  prepare  for  the  defense,  Miles  Feversham, 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  arrived  in  Seattle  the  first 
week  in  March.  The  month  had  opened  stormy,  with 
heavy  rains,  and  to  bridge  the  interval  preceding  the  trial, 
Marcia  planned  an  outing  at  Scenic  Hot  Springs  where, 
at  the  higher  altitude,  the  precipitation  had  taken  the 
form  of  snow,  and  the  hotel  advertised  good  skeeing  and 
tobogganing.  "  Make  the  most  of  it,"  she  admonished 
Frederic ;  "  it's  your  last  opportunity.  If  Lucky  Banks 
forfeits  his  bonus,  and  you  can  manage  to  keep  your  head 
and  use  a  little  diplomacy,  we  may  have  the  engagement 
announced  before  the  case  comes  up." 

Though  diplomacy  was  possible  only  through  sugges- 
tion, Frederic  was  a  willing  and  confident  medium.  He 
knew  Mrs.  Weatherbee  had  notified  Banks  she  was  at 
Scenic  and,  watching  her  that  day  of  the  fifteenth,  he  was 
at  first  puzzled  and  then  encouraged  that,  as  the  hours 
passed  and  the  prospector  failed  to  come,  her  spirits 
steadily  rose. 

Elizabeth  betrayed  more  anxiety.  At  evening  she  stood 
at  the  window  in  Beatriz's  room,  watching  the  bold  front 
of  the  mountain  which  the  Great  Northern  tracks  cross- 
cut to  Cascade  tunnel,  when  the  Spokane  local  rounded 
the  highest  curve  and  dropped  cautiously  to  the  first  snow- 
sheds.  The  bluffs  between  were  too  sheer  to  accumulate 
snow,  and  against  the  dark  background  the  vague  outline^ 


298      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  the  cars  passed  like  shadows;  the  electric  lights,  blaz- 
ing from  the  coaches,  produced  the  eflPect  of  an  aerial, 
fiery  dragon.  Then,  in  the  interval  it  disappeared,  an 
eastbound  challenged  from  the  lower  gorge,  and  the  mon- 
ster rushed  from  cover,  shrieking  defiance;  the  pawing 
clamp  of  its  trucks  roused  the  mountainside,  "  There  is 
your  last  westbound,"  she  said.  "  If  your  option  man 
isn't  aboard,  he  forfeits  his  bonus.  But  you  will  be  ahead 
the  three  thousand  dollars  and  whatever  improvements  he 
may  have  made." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  stood  at  the  mirror  fastening  a  great 
bunch  of  violets  at  her  belt.  There  was  a  bouquet  of  them 
on  the  dresser,  and  a  huge  bowl  filled  with  them  and  re- 
lieved by  a  single  red  rose  stood  on  the  table  in  the  center 
of  the  room.  "  That  is  what  troubles  me,"  she  replied, 
and  ruffled  her  brows.  "  It  seems  so  unjust  that  he 
should  lose  so  much ;  that  I  should  accept  everything  with- 
out compensating  him." 

Elizabeth  smiled.  "  I  guess  he  meant  to  get  what  he 
could  out  of  the  investment,  but  afterwards,  when  he 
married  and  found  his  wife  owned  the  adjoining  unre- 
claimed tract,  it  altered  the  situation.  It  called  for  double 
capital  and,  if  he  hesitated  and  it  came  to  a  choice,  natu- 
rally her  interests  would  swing  the  balance." 

"  No  doubt,"  admitted  Beatriz.  "  And  in  that  case," 
—  she  turned  from  the  mirror  to  watch  the  train  — 
"  I  might  deed  her  a  strip  of  ground  where  it  was  dis- 
covered her  tract  overlapped  David's.  That  would  be  a 
beginning." 

"  See  here."  Elizabeth  turned,  and  for  an  instant  the 
motherhood  deep  in  her  softened  the  masculine  lines  of 
her  face.  "  Don't  you  worry  about  Lucky  Banks.  Per- 
haps he  did  go  into  the  project  to  satisfy  his  conscience, 
but  the  deal  was  his,  and  he  had  the  money  to  throw  away. 
Some  men  get  their  fun  making  over  the  earth.     When  one 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH  299 

place  is  finished,  they  lose  interest  and  go  looking  for  a 
chance  to  put  their  time  and  dollars  into  improving  some- 
where else.  Besides," — and  she  took  this  other  woman 
into  her  abrupt  and  rare  embrace  — "  I  happen  to  know 
he  had  an  offer  for  his  option  and  refused  a  good  price. 
Now,  come,  Marcia  and  Frederic  have  gone  down  to  the 
dining-room,  you  know.     They  were  to  order  for  us." 

But  Beatriz  was  in  no  hurry.  "  The  train  is  on  the 
bridge,"  she  said  and  caught  a  quick  breath.  "  Do  you 
hear?     It  is  stopping  at  the  station." 

Elizabeth,  waiting  at  the  open  door,  answered :  "  We 
can  see  the  new  arrivals,  if  there  are  any,  when  we  go 
through  the  lobby." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  started  across  the  room,  but  at  the 
table  she  stopped  to  bend  over  the  bowl  of  violets,  inhal- 
ing their  fragrance.  "  Aren't  they  lovely  and  —  prodigal 
enough  to  color  whole  fields  ?  " 

Elizabeth  laughed.  "  Frederic  must  have  ordered 
wholesale,  or  else  he  forgot  they  were  in  season." 

Beatriz  lifted  her  face.  "  Did  Mr.  Morganstein  send 
these  violets.^"  she  asked.  "I  thought  —  but  there  was 
no  card." 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  said  Elizabeth,  "but  who  else 
would  have  ordered  whole  fields  of  them.?  " 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  was  silent,  but  she  smiled  a  little  as 
she  followed  Elizabeth  from  the  room.  When  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  the  lobby  was  nearly 
deserted;  if  the  train  had  left  any  guests,  they  had  been 
shown  already  to  their  rooms. 

The  Morganstein  table  was  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
dining-room,  but  Frederic,  who  was  watching  the  door 
when  the  young  women  entered,  at  once  noticed  the  vio- 
lets at  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  belt. 

"  Must  have  been  sent  from  Seattle  on  that  last  east- 
bound,"  he  commented,   frowning.     "  Say,  Marcia,  why 


300      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

didn't  you  remind  me  to  order  some  flowers  from  town  ?  " 

Marcia's  calculating  eyes  followed  his  gaze.  "  You 
would  not  have  remembered  she  is  fond  of  violets,  and 
they  seem  specially  made  for  her ;  you  would  have 
ordered  unusual  orchids  or  imported  azaleas." 

Frederic  laughed  uneasily,  and  a  purplish  flush  deep- 
ened in  his  cheeks.  "  I  always  figure  the  best  is  never 
too  good  for  her.  Not  that  the  highest  priced  makes  so 
much  diff^erence  with  her.  Look  at  her,  now,  will  you? 
Wouldn't  you  think,  the  way  she  carries  herself,  that 
little  gray  gown  was  a  coronation  robe?  George,  but 
she  is  game !  Acts  like  she  expects  Lucky  Banks  to  drop 
in  with  a  clear  fifty  thousand,  when  the  chances  are  he's 
gone  back  on  his  ten.  Well,"  he  said,  rising  as  she  ap- 
proached, to  draw  out  her  chair,  "  what  do  you  think 
about  your  customer  now  ?  Too  bad.  I  bet  you've  spent 
his  Alaska  dust  in  anticipation  a  hundred  times  over. 
Don't  deny  it,"  he  held  up  his  heavy  hand  in  playful  warn- 
ing as  he  resumed  his  chair.  "  Speculated  some  myself 
on  what  you'd  do  with  it.  George,  I'd  like  to  see  the  reins 
in  your  hands  for  once,  and  watch  you  go.  You'd  set  us 
a  pace;  break  all  records." 

"  Oh,  no.  no,"  she  expostulated  in  evident  distress.  "  I 
shouldn't  care  to  —  set  the  pace  —  if  I  were  to  come  into 
a  kingdom;  please  don't  think  that.  I  have  wanted  to 
keep  up,  I  admit ;  to  hold  my  own.  I  have  been  miserably 
afraid  sometimes  of  being  left  behind,  alone,  crowded  out, 
beaten." 

"Beaten?  You?  I  guess  not.  Bet  anybody  ten  to 
one  you'll  be  in  at  the  finish,  I  don't  care  who's  in  the 
field,  even  if  you  drop  in  your  traces  next  minute.  And 
I  bet  if  this  sale  does  fall  through  to-night,  you'll  be  look- 
ing up,  high  as  ever,  to-morrow,  setting  your  heart  on 
something  else  out  of  reach." 

"  Out  of  reach?  "  she   responded  evenly,   arching  her 


THE  IDES  OF  MARCH  301 

brows.  "  You  surprise  me.  You  have  led  me  to  believe 
I  am  easy  to  please." 

"  So  you  are,"  he  capitulated  instantly,  "  in  most  ways. 
All  the  same,  you  carry  the  ambitions  of  a  duchess  but- 
toned under  that  gray  gown.  But  I  like  you  for  it ;  like 
you  so  well  I'm  going  to  catch  myself  taking  that  property 
off  your  hands,  if  Banks  goes  back  on  you." 

He  leaned  towards  her  as  he  said  this,  smiling  and  try- 
ing to  hold  her  glance,  but  she  turned  her  face  and  looked 
off  obliviously  across  the  room.  There  were  moments  when 
even  Frederic  Morganstein  was  conscious  of  the  indefinable 
barrier  beyond  which  lay  intrenched,  an  untried  and  re- 
pelling force.  He  straightened  and,  following  her  gaze, 
saw  Lucky  Banks  enter  the  door. 

Involuntarily  Elizabeth  started,  and  Mrs.  Feversham 
caught  a  quick  breath.  "  At  the  eleventh  hour,"  she  said 
then,  and  her  eyes  met  her  brother's.  "  Yes  or  no  ?  " 
they  telegraphed. 

It  was  the  popular  hour,  an  orchestra  was  playing,  and 
the  tables  were  well  filled,  but  the  mining  man,  marshalled 
by  a  tall  and  important  head  waitress,  drew  himself 
straight  and  with  soldierly  precision  came  down  the  room 
as  far  as  the  Morganstein  group.  There,  recognizing 
Mrs.  Weatherbee,  he  stopped  and,  with  the  maimed  hand 
behind  him,  made  his  short,  swift  bow.  "  I  guess  likely 
you  gave  me  up,"  he  said  in  his  high  key,  "  but  I  waited 
long's  I  dared  for  the  through  train.  She's  been  snowed 
under  three  days  in  the  Rockies.  They  had  her  due  at  Wen- 
atchee  by  two-fifteen ;  then  it  was  put  off  to  five,  and  when 
the  local  came  along,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  take  her." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee,  who  had  started  to  rise,  settled  back 
in  her  chair  with  a  smile.  "  I  had  given  you  up,  Mr. 
Banks,"  she  said  not  quite  steadily. 

Then  Morganstein  said :  "  How  do.  Banks,"  and  offered 
his  hand.     "Just  in  time  to  join  us.     Ordered  saddle  of 


302      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Yakima  lamb,  first  on  the  market,  dressing  of  fine  herbs, 
for  the  crowd.     Suks  you,  doesn't  it?  " 

To  which  the  little  prospector  responded :  "  My,  yes, 
first  class,  but  I  don't  want  to  put  you  out." 

"  You  won't,"  Frederic  chuckled ;  "  couldn't  do  it  if  you 
tried." 

But  it  was  Elizabeth  who  rose  to  make  room  for  the 
extra  chair  on  her  side  of  the  table,  and  who  inquired 
presently  after  his  wife. 

"  Mrs.  Banks  is  fine,"  he  answered,  his  bleak  face  glow- 
ing. "  My,  yes,  seems  like  she  makes  a  better  showing 
now  than  she  did  at  the  Corners  seven  years  back." 

''  Still  driving  those  bays  ?  "  asked  Frederic. 

The  mining  man  nodded  with  reluctance.  "  It's  no  use 
to  try  to  get  her  to  let  'em  alone  long's  they  are  on  the 
place,  and  I  couldn't  sneak  'em  away;  she  was  always 
watching  around.  She  thinks  Tisdale  will  likely  sell  when 
he  sees  she  can  manage  the  team." 

"  So,"  laughed  Morganstein,  "  you'll  have  to  come  lip 
with  that  Christmas  present,  after  all." 

*'  They  will  do  for  her  birthday,"  replied  Banks  gravely. 
"  I  picked  out  a  new  ring  for  Christmas.  It  was  a  first- 
class  diamond,  and  she  liked  it  all  right.  She  said," 
and  a  shade  of  humor  warmed  his  face,  "  she  would  have  to 
patronize  the  new  manicure  store  down  to  Wenatchee,  if 
I  expected  her  to  have  hands  fit  to  wear  it,  and  if  she  had 
to  live  up  to  that  ring,  it  would  cost  me  something  before 
she  was  through." 

"  And  did  she  try  the  parlors  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth  seri- 
ously. 

"  My,  yes,  and  it  was  worth  the  money.  Her  hands 
made  a  mighty  fine  showing  the  first  trip,  and  before  she 
used  up  her  ticket,  I  was  telling  her  she'd  have  to  wear 
mittens  when  she  played  the  old  melodion,  or  likely  her  fin- 
gers would  get  hurt  hitting  the  keys." 


THE  IDES  OF  MAKCII  803 

Banks  laughed  his  high,  strained  laugh,  and  Morgan- 
stein  echoed  it  deeply.  "  Ought  to  have  an  establish- 
ment in  the  new  town,"  he  said. 

"  We  are  going  to,"  the  prospector  replied ;  "  as  soon 
as  the  new  brick  block  is  ready  to  open  up.  There's  go- 
ing to  be  manicure  and  hair-dressing  parlors  back  of  the 
millinery  store.  Lucile,  Miss  Lucile  Purdy  of  Sedgewick- 
Wilson's,  is  coming  over  to  run  'em  both.  She  can  do  it, 
my,  yes." 

"  Now  I  can  believe  you  have  a  self-respecting  and  wide- 
awake town,"  commented  Mrs.  Feversham.  "  But  is  the 
big  department  store  backing  Miss  Purdy?  '* 

"  No,  ma'am.  We  ain't  talking  about  it  much,  but 
Mrs.  Banks  has  put  up  money;  she  says  she  is  the  silent 
partner  of  the  concern." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  questioned  Morganstein  thoughtfully. 
"  Seems  to  me  you  are  banking  rather  heavy  on  the  new 
town." 

Banks'  eyes  gleamed  appreciation,  but  the  capitalist 
missed  his  inadvertent  pun.  After  a  moment,  the  mining 
man  said :  "  I  guess  the  millinery  investment  won't  break 
us ;  but  there's  no  question  about  Weatherbee's  being  a 
live  town,  and  Lucile  can  sell  goods." 

"I  presume  next,"  said  Mrs.  Feversham  with  veiled 
irony,  "  we  shall  be  hearing  of  you  as  the  first  mayor  of 
Weatherbee." 

Banks  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  They  shouldered  that 
on  to  Henderson  Bailey." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Frederic.  "  Man  who  started  the 
orchard  excitement,  wasn't  he?  Got  in  on  the  ground 
floor  and  platted  some  of  his  land  in  city  lots.  Natu- 
rally, he's  running  for  mayor." 

"  He's  it,"  responded  the  mining  man.  "  The  election 
came  off  Tuesday,  and  he  led  his  ticket,  my,  yes,  clear 
out  of  sight." 


304      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Bet  you  ran  for  something,  though,"  responded  Mor- 
ganstein.     "  Bet  they  had  you  up  for  treasurer." 

Banks  laughed.  "  There  was  some  talk  of  it  —  my 
wife  said  they  were  looking  for  somebody  that  could  make 
good  if  the  city  money  fell  short  —  but  most  of  the 
bunch  thought  my  lay  was  the  Board  of  Control.  You 
see,  I  got  to  looking  after  things  to  help  Bailey  out,  while 
he  was  busy  moving  his  apples  or  maybe  his  city  lots. 
My,  it  got  so's  when  Mrs.  Banks  couldn't  find  me  down  to 
the  city  park,  watching  the  men  grub  out  sage-brush  for 
the  new  trees,  she  could  count  on  my  being  up-stream  to 
the  water-works,  or  hiking  out  to  the  lighting-plant.  It's 
kept  me  rushed,  all  right.  It  takes  time  to  start  a  first- 
class  town.  It  has  to  be  done  straight  from  bedrock. 
But  now  that  Annabel's  house  up  Hesperides  Vale  is  built, 
and  the  flumes  are  in,  she  thinks  likely  she  can  run  her 
ranch,  and  I  think  likely," — the  prospector  paused,  and 
his  eyes,  with  their  gleam  of  blue  glacier  ice,  sought  Mrs. 
Weatherbee's.  Hers  clouded  a  little,  and  she  leaned 
slightly  towards  him,  waiting  with  hushed  breath  — "  I 
think  likely,"  he  repeated  in  a  higher  key,  "  seeing's  the 
Alameda  has  to  be  finished  up,  and  the  fountain  got  in 
shape  at  the  park,  with  the  statue  about  due  from  New 
York,  I  may  as  well  drop  Dave's  project  and  call  the 
deal  off." 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  the  eyes  of  every 
one  rested  on  Beatriz.  She  straightened  with  a  great 
sigh ;  the  color  rushed  coral-pink  to  her  face. 

"I  am  —  sorry  —  about  your  loss,  Mr.  Banks,"  she 
said,  then,  and  her  voice  fluctuated  softly,  "  but  I  shall 
do  my  best  —  I  shall  make  it  a  point  of  honor  —  to 
sometime  reimburse  you."  Her  glance  fell  to  the  vio- 
lets at  her  belt ;  she  singled  one  from  the  rest  and,  inhaling 
its  perfume,  held  it  lightly  to  her  lips. 

"  You  thoroughbred  I  "  said  Frederic  thickly. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE    EVEELASTING    DOOR 

SOMETIME  during  the  night  of  the  fifteenth,  the  be- 
lated Chinook  wind  began  to  flute  through  the  can- 
yon, and  towards  dawn  the  guests  at  Scenic  Hot  Springs 
were  wakened  by  the  near  thunder  of  an  avalanche.  After 
a  while,  word  was  brought  that  the  Great  Northern  track 
was  buried  under  forty  feet  of  snow  and  rock  and  fallen 
trees  for  a  distance  of  nearly  a  mile.  Later  a  rotary 
steamed  around  the  high  curve  on  the  mountain  and 
stopped,  like  a  toy  engine  on  an  upper  shelf,  while  the 
Spokane  local,  upon  which  Banks  had  expected  to  return 
to  Weatherbee,  forged  a  few  miles  beyond  the  hotel  to 
leave  a  hundred  laborers  from  Seattle.  Thin  wreaths  of 
vapor  commenced  to  rise  and,  gathering  volume  with  in- 
credible swiftness,  blotted  out  the  plow  and  the  snow- 
sheds,  and  meeting,  broke  in  a  storm  of  hail.  The  cloud 
lifted,  but  in  a  short  interval  was  followed  by  another  that 
burst  in  a  deluge  of  rain,  and  while  the  slope  was  still  ob- 
scured, a  report  was  telegraphed  from  the  summit  that  a 
second  avalanche  had  closed  the  east  portal  of  Cascade 
tunnel,  through  which  the  Oriental  Limited  had  just 
passed.  At  nightfall,  when  the  work  of  clearing  away  the 
first  mass  of  debris  was  not  yet  completed,  a  third  slide 
swept  down  seven  laborers  and  demolished  a  snow-shed. 
The  unfortunate  train  that  had  been  delayed  so  long  in 
the  Rockies  was  indefinitely  stalled. 

The  situation  was  unprecedented.     Never  before  in  the 
history  of  the  Great  Northern  had  there  been  so  heavy  a 


306      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

snowfall  in  the  Cascades;  the  sudden  thaw  following  an 
ordinary  precipitation  must  have  looked  serious,  but  the 
moving  of  this  vast  accumulation  became  appalling.  All 
through  that  day,  the  second  night  the  cannonading  of 
avalanches  continued,  distant  and  near.  At  last  came  an 
interlude.  The  warm  wind  died  out ;  at  evening  there  was 
a  promise  of  frost;  and  only  the  voice  of  the  river  dis- 
turbed the  gorge.  Dawn  broke  still  and  crisp  and  clear. 
The  mountain  tops  shone  in  splendor,  purple  cliifs  stood 
sharply  defined  against  snow-covered  slopes,  and  whole 
companies  in  the  lower  ranks  of  the  trees  had  thrown  off 
their  white  cloaks.  It  was  a  day  to  delight  the  soul,  to 
rouse  the  heart,  invite  to  deeds  of  emulation.  Even  Fred- 
eric was  responsive,  and  when  after  breakfast  Marcia 
broached  a  plan  to  scale  the  peak  that  loomed  southeast  of 
the  pass,  he  grasped  at  the  diversion.  "  We're  pretty 
high  up  already,  here  at  Scenic,"  he  commented,  survey- 
ing the  dome  from  his  chair  on  the  hotel  veranda.  "  Three 
or  four  thousand  feet  ought  to  put  us  on  the  summit. 
Have  the  chance,  anyhow,  to  see  that  stalled  train." 

"  Of  course  it  wouldn't  be  an  achievement  like  the  ascent 
of  Rainier,"  she  tempered,  "  but  we  should  have  chances 
enough  to  use  our  alpenstocks  before  we're  through;  and 
it  should  be  a  magnificent  view;  all  the  great  peaks  from 
Oregon   to   British   Columbia    rising  around." 

"  With  the  Columbia  River  below  us,"  said  Elizabeth, 
"  and  all  those  miles  of  desert.  We  might  even  catch  a 
glimpse  of  your  new  Eden  over  there,  Beatriz." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  nodded,  with  the  sparkles  breaking  in 
her  eyes.  "  I  know  this  is  the  peak  we  watched  the  day 
I  drove  from  Wenatchee.  It  rose  white  and  shining  at  the 
top  of  Hesperides  Vale,  and  it  may  have  another  name, 
but  I  called  it  the  Everlasting  Door." 

Once  since  their  arrival  at  Scenic  Hot  Springs  they  had 
followed,  skeeing,  an  old  abandoned  railroad  track,  used 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       307 

by  the  Great  Northern  during  the  construction  of  the 
big  tunnel,  to  the  edge  of  the  desired  peak,  and,  at  Marcia's 
suggestion,  Frederic  invited  Lucky  Banks  to  join  the 
expedition  in  the  capacity  of  captain  and  griide.  The 
prospector  admitted  he  felt  "  the  need  of  a  little  exercise  " 
and,  having  studied  the  mountain  with  field-glasses  and 
consulted  with  the  hotel  proprietor,  he  consented  to  see 
them  through.  No  doubt  the  opportunity  to  learn  the 
situation  of  the  Oriental  Limited  and  the  possibilities  of 
getting  in  touch  with  Tisdale,  should  the  train  fail  to  move 
before  his  return  from  the  summit,  had  influenced  the  lit- 
tle man's  decision.  A  few  spikes  in  his  shoes,  some  hard- 
tack and  cheese  with  an  emergency  flask  in  his  pockets, 
a  coil  of  rope  and  a  small  hatchet  that  might  serve  equally 
well  as  an  ice-ax  or  to  clear  undergrowth  on  the  lower 
slopes,  was  ample  equipment,  and  he  was  off^  to  recon- 
noiter  the  mountainside  fully  an  hour  in  advance  of  the 
packer  whom  Morganstein  engaged  for  the  first  stage  of 
the  journey. 

When  the  man  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  sharp  ascent 
where  he  was  to  be  relieved.  Banks  was  finishing  the  piece 
of  trail  he  had  blazed  and  mushed  diagonally  up  the  slope 
to  a  rocky  cleaver  that  stretched  like  a  causeway  from  the 
timber  to  firm  snow,  but  he  returned  with  time  to  spare 
between  the  departure  of  the  packer  and  the  appearance 
of  his  party,  to  open  the  unwieldy  load;  from  this  he 
discarded  two  bottles  of  claret  and  another  of  port,  with 
their  wrappings  of  straw,  a  steamer-rug,  some  tins  of 
pate  de  foie  gras  and  other  sundries  that  made  for  weight, 
but  which  the  capitalist  had  considered  essential  to  the 
comfort  and  success  of  the  expedition.  There  still  re- 
mained a  well-stocked  hamper,  including  thermos  bottles 
of  coff*ee  and  tea,  and  a  second  rug,  which  he  rolled  snugly 
in  the  oilskin  cover  and  secured  with  shoulder-straps. 
The  eliminated  articles,  that  he  cached  under  a  log,  were 


308      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

not  missed  until  luncheon,  which  was  served  on  a  high 
spur  below  the  summit  while  Banks  was  absent  making  a 
last  reconnaissance,  and  Frederic  blamed  the  packer. 

The  spur  was  flanked  above  by  a  craggy  buttress  and 
broke  below  to  an  abyss  which  was  divided  by  a  narrow, 
tongue-like  ridge,  and  over  this,  on  a  lower  level  of  the 
opposite  peak,  appeared  the  steep  roofs  of  the  mountain 
station  at  the  entrance  to  Cascade  tunnel,  where,  on  the 
tracks  outside  the  portal,  stood  the  stalled  train.  It 
seemed  within  speaking  distance  in  that  rare  atmosphere, 
though  several  miles  intervened. 

After  a  while  sounds  of  metal  striking  ice  came  from  a 
point  around  the  buttress;  Banks  was  cutting  steps. 
Then,  following  a  silence,  he  appeared.  But,  on  coming 
into  the  sunny  westward  exposure,  he  stopped,  and  with 
two  fingers  raised  like  a  weather-vane,  stood  gazing  down 
the  canyon.  His  eyes  began  to  scintillate  like  chippings 
of  blue  glacier. 

Involuntarily  every  one  turned  in  that  direction,  and 
Frederic  reached  to  take  his  field-glasses  from  the  shelf 
of  the  buttress  they  had  converted  into  a  table.  But  he 
saw  nothing  new  to  hold  the  attention  except  three  or 
four  gauzy  streamers  of  smoke  or  vapor  that  floated  in 
the  lower  gorge. 

"  Looks  like  a  train  starting  up,"  he  commented,  "  but 
the  Limited  gets  the  right  of  way  as  soon  as  there's  a 
clear  track." 

Banks  dropped  his  hand  and  moved  a  few  steps  to  take 
the  glasses  from  Morganstein.  "  You're  right,"  he  re- 
plied in  his  high,  strained  key.  "  It  ain't  any  train  mov- 
ing; it's  the  Chinook  waking  up."  He  focussed  on  the 
Oriental  Limited,  then  slowly  swept  the  peak  that  over- 
topped the  cars.  "Likely  they  dasn't  back  her  into  the 
tunnel,"  he  said.  "  The  bore  is  long  enough  to  take  in 
the  whole  bunch,  but  if  et  slide  toppled  off  that  shoulder, 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       309 

it  would  pen  'em  in  and  cut  off  the  air.  It  looks  better 
outside,  my,  yes." 

"  Here  is  your  coffee,  Mr.  Banks,"  said  Elizabeth,  who 
had  filled  a  cup  from  the  thermos  bottle,  "  and  please  take 
anything  else  you  wish  while  I  repack  the  basket.  We 
are  all  waiting,  you  see,  to  go  on." 

The  prospector  paused  to  take  the  cup,  then  said :  "  I 
guess  likely  we  won't  make  the  summit  this  trip.  We've 
got  to  hustle  to  get  down  before  it  turns  soft." 

"  Oh,  but  we  must  make  the  summit,"  exclaimed  Mar- 
cia,  taking  up  her  alpenstock.  "  Why,  we  are  all  but 
there." 

"  How  does  it  look  ahead?  "  inquired  Frederic,  walk- 
ing along  the  buttress.     "  Heard  you  chopping  ice." 

"  I  was  cutting  steps  across  the  tail  end  of  a  little 
glacier.  It's  a  gliddery  place,  but  the  going  looks  all 
right  once  you  get  past.  Well,  likely  you  can  make  it," 
he  added  shrilly,  "  but  you've  got  to  be  quick." 

The  life  of  the  trail  that  sharpens  a  man's  perceptives 
teaches  him  to  read  individuality  swiftly,  and  this  Alaskan 
who,  the  first  day  out  on  a  long  stampede,  could  have  told 
the  dominant  trait  of  each  husky  in  his  team,  knew  his 
party  as  well  as  the  risk.  Golf  and  tennis,  added  to  a 
naturally  strong  physique,  had  given  the  two  sisters  nerves 
of  steel.  Marcia,  who  had  visited  some  of  the  great  gla- 
ciers in  the  north,  possessed  the  insight  and  coolness  of 
a  mountain  explorer;  and  all  the  third  woman  lacked  in 
physical  endurance  was  more  than  made  up  in  courage. 
The  man,  though  enervated  by  over-indulgence,  had  the 
brute  force,  the  animal  instinct  of  self-preservation,  to 
carry  him  through.  So  presently,  when  the  buttress  was 
passed,  and  the  prospector  uncoiled  his  rope,  it  was  to 
Mrs.  Feversham  he  gave  the  other  end,  placing  Morgan- 
stein  next,  with  Elizabeth  at  the  center  and  Mrs.  Weath- 
erbee  second.     Once,  twice,  Banks  felt  her  stumble,  a  sink- 


310      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ing  weight  on  the  line,  but  in  the  instant  he  caught  a  twist 
in  the  slack  and  fixed  his  heels  in  the  crust  to  turn,  she 
had,  in  each  case,  recovered  and  come  steadily  on.  It 
was  only  when  the  gliddery  passage  was  made,  the  peril 
behind,  that  she  sank  down  in  momentary  collapse. 

Banks  stopped  to  unfold  his  pocket-cup  and  take  out 
his  flask.  "  You  look  about  done  for,"  he  said  briskly. 
"  My,  yes,  that  little  taste  of  glacier  was  your  limit. 
But  you  ain't  the  kind  to  back  out.  No,  ma'am,  all  you 
need  is  a  little  bracer  to  put  you  on  your  feet  again, 
good  as  new." 

"  I  never  can  go  back,"  she  said,  and  met  his  con- 
cerned look  with  wide  and  luminous  eyes.  "  Unless  — 
I'm  carried.     Never  in  the  world." 

Morganstein  forced  a  laugh.  It  had  a  frosty  sound; 
his  lips  were  blue.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  responded.  "  Any- 
where else  I  wouldn't  hesitate,  but  here,  I  draw  the  line." 

The  prospector  was  holding  the  draught  to  her  lips, 
and  she  took  a  swallow  and  pushed  away  the  cup.  It 
was  brandy,  raw,  scalding,  and  it  brought  the  color  back 
to  her  face.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  forced  a  smile. 
"  It  is  bracing ;  my  tensions  are  all  screwed.  I  feel  like 
climbing  on  to  —  Mars." 

Frederic  laughed  again.  "  You  go  on.  Banks,"  he  said, 
relieving  him  of  the  cup ;  "  she's  all  right.  You  hurry 
ahead  before  one  of  those  girls  walks  over  a  precipice." 

He  could  not  persuade  her  to  take  more  of  the  liquor, 
so  he  himself  drank  the  bracer,  after  which  he  put  the 
cup  and  the  flask,  which  Banks  had  left,  away  in  his  own 
pockets.  She  was  up,  whipping  down  her  fear.  "  Come," 
she  said,  "  we  must  hurry  to  overtake  them." 

Her  steps,  unsteady  at  first,  grew  sure  and  determined ; 
she  drew  longer,  deeper  breaths ;  the  pink  of  a  wild  rose 
flushed  her  cheeks.  But  Frederic,  plodding  abreast,  laid 
his  hand  on  her  arm. 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       311 

"  See  here,"  he  said,  "  you  can't  keep  this  up ;  stop  a 
minute.  They've  got  to  wait  for  us.  George,  that  am- 
bition of  yours  can  spur  you  to  the  pace.  Never  saw  so 
much  spirit  done  up  in  a  small  package.  Go  off,  some- 
time, like  Fourth  o^  July  fireworks."  He  chuckled,  look- 
ing down  at  her  with  admiration  in  his  round  eyes.  "  Like 
you  for  it,  though.  George,  it's  just  that  has  made  you 
worth  waiting  for." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance  and,  setting  her  alpenstock, 
sprang  from  his  detaining  hand. 

"  See,  they  have  reached  the  summit,"  she  called. 
"  They  are  waiting  already  for  us.  And  see !  "  she  ex- 
claimed tensely,  as  he  struggled  after  her.  "  It  is  going 
to  be  grand." 

A  vast  company  of  peaks  began  to  lift,  tier  on  tier 
like  an  amphitheater,  above  the  rim  of  the  dome,  while 
far  eastward,  as  they  cross-cut  the  rounding  incline, 
stretched  those  tawny  mountains  that  had  the  appearance 
of  strange  and  watchful  beasts,  guarding  the  levels  of  the 
desert,  bare  of  snow.  Glimpses  there  were  of  the  blue 
Columbia,  the  racy  Wenatchee,  but  Weatherbee's  pocket 
was  closed.  Then,  presently,  as  they  gained  the  summit, 
it  was  no  longer  an  amphitheater  into  which  they  looked, 
but  a  billowing  sea  of  cloud,  out  of  which  rose  steep  and 
inhospitable  shores.  Then,  everywhere,  far  and  away, 
shone  opal-shaded  islands  of  mystery. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  little,  sighing  breath,  "  these  are 
the  Isles  of  the  Blest.  We  have  come  through  the  Ever- 
lasting Door  into  the  better  country." 

She  stood  looking  off  in  rapture,  but  the  man  saw  only 
the  changing  lights  in  her  face.  He  turned  a  little,  tak- 
ing in  the  charm  of  pose,  the  lift  of  chin,  parted  lips,  hand 
shading  softly  shining  eyes.  After  a  moment  he  an- 
swered :  "  Wish  we  had.  Wish  every  other  man  you 
knew  was  left  out,  on  the  other  side  of  the  door." 


312      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Her  hand  fell,  she  gave  him  her  sweeping  look  and 
moved  to  join  the  waiting  group. 

Banks  came  to  meet  them.  "  We've  stayed  to  the  limit ; 
n^Jj  yes,  it's  the  last  call,"  he  explained  in  his  tense  key. 
"  There's  a  couple  of  places  we  don't  want  to  see  our- 
selves caught  in  when  the  thaw  strikes.  And  they're  get- 
ting a  heavy  rain  down  at  the  Springs  now;  likely  up  at 
the  tunnel  it's  snow  or  hail."  He  paused,  turning  to  send 
a  final  glance  into  the  mist,  then  said :  "  Less  than  ten 
minutes  ago  I  had  a  sight  of  that  train,  but  you  see  now 
she's  wiped  off  the  map.  It'll  be  a  close  race,  my,  yes. 
Give  me  that  stick,  ma'am;  you  can  make  better  time 
on  the  down-grade  holding  on  to  me." 

With  this,  he  offered  his  able  hand  to  Mrs.  Weather- 
bee  and,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  party,  helped  her 
swiftly  down  the  slope.  But  clearly  his  mind  was  on  the 
stalled  train.  "  Likely,  hugging  the  mountainside,  they 
don't  see  how  the  snow  crowds  overhead,"  he  said.  "  And 
I'd  ought  to  have  taken  time  to  run  over  and  give  'em  a 
tip.  I'm  going  to,  I'm  going  to,  soon's  I  get  you  down 
to  that  old  railroad  track  where  you  can  make  it  alone." 

"Do  you  mean  the  Limited  is  in  danger.'^"  she  asked, 
springing  and  tripping  to  his  stride. 

And  Banks  nodded  grimly.  "  Yes,  ma'am.  It's  a  hard 
proposition,  even  to  a  man  like  Tisdale,  who  is  used  to 
breaking  his  own  trail.  He  knows  he's  got  to  fight  shy 
of  the  slides  along  that  burned  over  switchback,  but  if 
he  saw  the  box  that  train  is  in,  he  would  just  hike  around 
to  this  side  of  the  canyon,  where  the  pitches  are  shorter, 
and  the  green  trees  stand  some  show  to  hold  the  snow, 
and  work  down  to  the  old  track  to  the  Springs." 

"Is  Mr.  Tisdale" — her  voice  broke  a  little — "Mr. 
Hollis  Tisdale  on  that  train?  " 

"  Likely,  yes.  He  was  snowbound  on  her  in  the  Rock- 
ies, last  I  heard,  and  '  feeling  fit  as   a  moose.'     Being 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       313 

penned  up  so  long,  he'd  likely  rather  take  a  hike  down  to 
the  hotel  than  not.  It  would  be  good  for  his  health." 
And  the  little  man  piped  his  high,  mirthless  laugh. 

She  stumbled,  and  he  felt  the  hand  in  his  tremble,  but 
the  abrupt  incline  of  the  glacier  had  opened  before  them, 
and  he  believed  she  dreaded  to  re-cross  the  ice.  "  Keep 
cool,"  he  admonished,  releasing  her  to  uncoil  the  rope 
again,  "  Stand  steady.  Just  recollect  if  you  came  over 
this,  you  can  get  back." 

But  when,  presently,  the  difficult  passage  safely  made, 
they  rounded  the  crag  and  gained  the  level  shoulder  where 
they  had  lunched,  they  seemed  to  have  arrived  at  a  dif- 
ferent place.  The  lower  canyon,  which  not  two  hours 
before  had  stretched  into  blue  distance  below  them,  was 
lost  in  the  creeping  sea  of  cloud ;  the  abyss  at  their  feet 
gathered  immensity,  and  the  top  of  the  timbered  ridge 
lifted  midway  like  a  strange,  floating  garden.  The  sta- 
tion at  Cascade  tunnel,  all  the  opposite  mountain,  was 
obscured,  then,  while  Banks  stood  re-coiling  his  rope,  the 
sounds  that  had  disturbed  the  guests  at  Scenic  Hot 
Springs  those  previous  nights  rose,  reverberating, 
through  the  hidden  gorge.  The  Chinook  had  resumed  its 
work. 

The  way  below  the  spur  broke  in  easy  steps  to  the  long 
and  gradual  slope  that  terminated  abovfe  the  cleaver  of 
rock  and,  anxious  to  reach  the  unfortunate  train.  Banks 
hurried  on.  Marcia  and  Elizabeth  trailed  quickly  after, 
but  Mrs.  Weatherbee  remained  seated  on  the  shelving 
ledge  at  the  foot  of  the  crag.  Frederic  sank  heavily  into 
the  place  beside  her  and  took  out  the  flask. 

"  You  are  all  in,"  he  said.  "  Come,  take  this ;  it's 
diluted  this  time  with  snow." 

But  she  gave  him  no  attention,  except  to  push  aside 
the  cup.  She  waited,  listening,  leaning  forward  a  little 
as  though  her  wide  eyes  could  penetrate  the  pall.     Then, 


314      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

torn  by  cross  currents  of  wind,  the  cloud  parted,  and  the 
mountain  loomed  like  a  phantom  peak  over  the  gulf. 
She  started  up  and  stood  swaying  gently  on  her  feet  while 
the  trees,  tall  and  spectral  and  cloaked  in  snow,  opened 
rank  on  rank  like  a  uniformed  company.  Lower  still, 
the  steep  roofs  of  the  station  reflected  a  shaft  of  the  sun, 
and  the  long  line  of  cars  appeared  clearly  defined,  wait- 
ing still  on  the  tracks  outside  the  portal. 

The  rent  in  the  cloud  closed.  She  turned  with  a  great, 
sighing  breath.  "  Did  you  see  ?  "  she  said.  "  The  train 
is  safe." 

"  Of  course."  And  again,  having  himself  taken  the 
bracer,  Frederic  rose  and  returned  the  flask  to  his  pocket. 
"  So,  that  was  troubling  you ;  thought  that  train  might 
have  been  struck.  Guess  if  an  avalanche  had  come  down 
there,  we'd  have  heard  some  noise.  It's  safe  enough  here," 
he  added.  "  Top  of  this  crag  was  built  to  shed  snow  like 
a  church  steeple." 

"But  why  are  we  waiting?"  And  glancing  around, 
she  exclaimed  in  dismay :  "  The  others  have  gone.  See ! 
They  are  almost  out  of  sight." 

She  began  to  walk  swiftly  to  the  lower  rim  of  the  shoul- 
der, and  Frederic  followed.  Down  the  slope  his  sisters 
and  Banks  seemed  to  be  moving  through  a  film.  They 
mingled  with  it  indistinctly  as  the  figures  in  faded  tap- 
estry. But  Morganstein  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm  to  de- 
tain her.  "  What's  your  hurry? "  he  asked  thickly. 
"  All  we  got  to  do  now  is  keep  their  trail.  Tracks  are 
clear  as  day." 

"  We  shall  delay  them ;  they  will  wait." 

She  tried  to  pass  him,  but  they  had  reached  the  step 
from  the  spur,  and  he  swung  around  to  block  the  narrow 
way.  "  Not  yet,"  he  said.  "  This  is  the  moment  Fve 
been  waiting  for.  First  time  in  months  you've  given  me 
a  fair  chance  to  speak  to  you.     Always  headed  me  ofl^. 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       315 

I'm  tired  of  being  held  at  arm's  length.  I've  been  pa- 
tient to  the  hmit.  I'm  going  to  know  now,  to-day,  before 
we  go  down  from  this  mountain,  how  soon  you  are  going 
to  marry  me." 

She  tried  again  to  pass  him  but,  taking  incautious  foot- 
ing, slipped,  and  his  arm  saved  her.  "  I  don't  care  how 
soon  it  is,"  he  went  on,  "  or  where.  Quietly  at  your  ^ 
apartments,  or  a  big  church  wedding.  On  board  the 
first  boat  sailing  for  Yokohama,  after  those  coal  cases 
are  settled,  suits  me." 

She  struggled  to  free  herself,  then  managed  to  turn 
and  face  him,  with  her  palms  braced  against  his  breast. 
His  arm  relaxed  a  little,  so  that  he  was  able  to  look  down 
in  her  lifted  face.  What  he  saw  there  was  not  altogether 
anger,  though  aversion  was  in  her  eyes ;  not  surprise,  not 
wholly  derision,  though  her  lips  suggested  a  smile,  but  an 
indefinable  something  that  baffled,  mastered  him.  His  arm 
fell.  "  Japan  is  fine  in  the  spring,"  he  said.  *'  And  we 
could  take  our  time,  coming  back  by  way  of  Hawaii  to 
see  the  big  volcano,  with  another  stop-over  at  Manila. 
Get  home  to  begin  housekeeping  at  the  villa  in  mid- 
summer." 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed  at  last,  "  do  you  think  I  am  a 
silly  girl  to  be  dazzled  and  tempted.'^  Who  knows  noth- 
ing of  marriage  and  the  cost.''  " 

"  No,"  he  responded  quickly.  "  I  think  you  are  a 
mighty  clever  woman.  But  you've  got  to  the  point  where 
you  can't  hedge  any  more.  Banks  has  gone  back  on  that 
option.  If  he  won't  buy,  nobody  else  will.  And  it  takes 
ready  money  to  run  a  big  ranch  like  that,  -even  after  the 
improvements  are  in.  You  can't  realize  on  your  orchards, 
even  in  the  Wenatchee  country,  short  of  four  years.  So 
you'll  have  to  marry  me;  only  way  out." 

She  gave  him  her  swift,  sweeping  look,  and  the  blue 
lights   blazed   in   her   eyes.     "  I   will   remember   you   are 


316      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Elizabeth's  brother,"  she  said.  "  I  will  try  to  remember 
that.  But  please  don't  say  any  more.  Every  moment 
counts ;  come." 

Morganstein  laughed.  As  long  as  she  parried,  as  long 
as  she  did  not  refuse  outright  to  marry  him,  he  must  keep 
reasonably  cool.  He  stooped  to  pick  up  the  alpenstock 
she  had  dropped,  then  offered  his  hand  down  the  step 
from  the  spur.  "  Sorry  I  put  it  just  that  way,"  he  said. 
"  I'm  a  plain  business  man ;  used  to  coming  straight  to  the 
point;  but  I  guess  you've  known  how  much  I  thought  of 
you  all  these  years.  Had  to  keep  on  a  high  check-rein 
while  Weatherbee  lived,  and  tried  my  best,  afterwards,  to 
give  him  a  year's  grace,  but  you  knew  just  the  same. 
Know  —  don't  you.''  —  I  might  take  my  pick  out  of  the 
dozen  nicest  girls  in  Seattle  to-day.  Only  have  to  say 
the  word.  Not  one  in  the  bunch  would  turn  me  down. 
But  I  wouldn't  have  one  of  'em  for  second  choice.  No- 
body but  you  will  do."  He  paused,  then  added  with  his 
narrow  look:  "And  what  I  want,  you  ought  to  know 
that  too,  I  get." 

She  met  the  look  with  a  shake  of  the  head  and  forced 
a  smile.  "  Some  things  are  not  to  be  bought  at  any 
price.  But,  of  course,  I  have  seen  —  a  woman  does  — " 
she  went  on  hurriedly,  withdrawing  her  hand.  "  There 
was  a  time,  I  confess,  when  I  did  consider  —  your  way 
out.     But  I  dared  not  take  it ;  even  then,  I  dared  not." 

"  You  dared  not  ?  "  Frederic  laughed  again.  "  Never 
thought  you  were  afraid  of  me.  Never  saw  you  afraid 
of  anything.  But  I  see.  Miserable  experience  with 
Weatherbee  made  you  little  cautious.  George,  don't  see 
how  any  man  could  have  deserted  you.  Trust  me  to  make 
it  up  to  you.  Marry  me,  and  I'll  show  you  such  a  good 
time  Weatherbee  won't  amount  to  a  bad  dream." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  forget  David  Weatherbee,"  she  said. 

"  George !  "   he  exclaimed   curiously.     "  Do   you  mean 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       317 

you  ever  really  loved  him?  A  man  who  left  you,  prac- 
tically without  a  cent,  before  you  were  married  a  month." 

"  No."  Her  voice  was  low ;  her  lip  trembled  a  little. 
**  No,  I  did  not  love  him  —  as  he  deserved ;  as  I  was  able 
to  love."  She  paused,  then  went  on  with  decision :  "  But 
he  did  not  leave  me  unprovided  for.  David  Weatherbee 
never  deserted  me.  And,  even  though  he  had,  though 
he  had  been  the  kind  of  man  I  believed  him  to  be ,  it  would 
make  no  difference.     I  could  not  marry  you." 

There  was  a  silence  during  which  they  continued  to 
follow  the  tracks  that  cross-cut  the  slope.  But  Morgan- 
stein's  face  was  not  pleasant  to  see.  All  the  complai- 
sancy  of  the  egotist  who  has  long  and  successfully  shaped 
lives  to  his  own  ends  was  withdrawn;  it  left  exposed  the 
ugly  inner  side  of  the  man.  The  trail  was  becoming  soft ; 
the  damp  of  the  Chinook  began  to  envelop  them;  already 
the  advancing  film  stretched  like  a  curtain  over  the  sun, 
and  the  three  figures  that  had  seemed  parts  of  a  shaken 
tapestry  disappeared.  Then,  presently.  Banks'  voice, 
muffled  like  a  voice  under  a  blanket,  rose  through  the  pall. 
And  Frederic  stopped  to  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth.  "  All 
right !  Coming !  "  he  answered,  but  the  shout  rebounded 
as  though  it  had  struck  a  sounding  board. 

After  another  plodding  silence,  the  prospector's  hail 
reached  them  again.  It  seemed  farther  off,  and  this  time 
Morganstein  did  not  respond.  He  stopped,  however,  and 
the  woman  beside  him  waited  in  expectation.  "  Suppose," 
he  said  slowly,  "  we  are  lost  on  this  mountain  to-night. 
Make  a  difference  to-morrow  —  wouldn't  it.''  —  whether 
you  would  marry  me  or  not." 

The  color  rushed  to  her  face  and  went;  her  breast  rose 
and  fell  in  deep,  quick  breaths,  but  she  met  his  look  fear- 
lessly, lifting  herself  with  the  swaying  movement  from  the 
balls  of  her  feet  that  made  her  suddenly  taller.  "  No." 
And  her  tone,  the  way  in  which  she  said  it,  must  have  stung 


318      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

even  his  small  soul ;  then  she  added :  "  You  are  more 
brutal  than  I  thought." 

She  turned  after  that  and  herself  sent  the  belated  re- 
sponse to  Banks.  But  though  she  repeated  the  call  twice, 
making  a  trumpet  of  her  hands  and  with  all  the  power 
of  her  voice,  his  hail  did  not  reach  them  again.  She 
started  swiftly  down.     It  was  beginning  to  snow. 

Frederic  had  nothing  more  to  say.  He  moved  on  with 
her.  It  was  as  though  each  tried  to  out-travel  the  other, 
still  they  could  not  make  up  that  delay.  The  snow  fell 
in  big,  soft  flakes  that  blurred  the  tracks  they  followed; 
soon  they  were  completely  blotted  out,  and  though  he 
strained  his  eyes  continually,  watching  for  the  cleaver  of 
rock  they  had  climbed  that  morning,  the  landmark  never 
appeared.  Finally,  at  the  same  instant,  they  both 
stopped,  listening.  On  the  silence  broke  innumerable 
small  sounds  like  many  little  hurrying  feet.  The  moun- 
tain trembled  slightly.  "  God  Almighty  1 "  he  cried 
thickly.  Then  came  the  closer  rush  of  a  considerable 
body,  not  unlike  sheep  passing  in  a  fog,  and  panic  seized 
him.  "  We've  got  to  keep  on  top,"  he  shouted  and,  grasp- 
ing her  arm,  he  swung  her  around  and  began  to  run  back 
up  the  slope. 

In  the  face  of  this  common  peril,  personality  called  a 
truce,  and  she  pushed  on  with  him  blindly,  leaving  it  to 
him  to  choose  the  way  and  set  the  pace.  But  their  own 
tracks  down  the  incline  had  filled  with  incredible  swiftness ; 
soon  they  were  completely  effaced.  And,  when  the  noise 
subsided,  he  stopped  and  looked  about  him,  bewildered. 
He  saw  nothing  but  a  breadth  of  sharply  dipping  slope, 
white,  smooth  as  an  unwritten  scroll,  over  which  hung 
the  swaying,  voluminous  veil  of  the  falling  snow.  He  put 
his  hands  to  his  mouth  then,  and  lifted  his  voice  in  a 
great  hail.  It  brought  no  reply,  but  in  the  moment  he 
waited,  somewhere  far  below  in  those  obscured  depths,  a 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       319 

great  tree,  splitting  under  tremendous  pressure,  crashed 
down,  then  quickly  the  terrific  sweep  and  roar  of  a  second 
mightier  avalanche  filled  the  hidden  gorge. 

Morganstein  caught  her  arm  once  more.  "  We  must 
get  back  to  that  shoulder  where  it's  safe,"  he  shouted. 
"  Banks  will  come  to  look  us  up."  After  that,  as  they 
struggled  on  up  the  slope,  he  fell  to  saying  over  and 
over,  as  long  as  the  reverberations  lasted :  "  Almighty 
God!" 

As  they  ascended,  the  snow  fell  less  heavily  and  finally 
ceased.  It  became  firm  underfoot,  and  a  cross  wind,  start- 
ing in  puffs,  struck  their  faces  sharply  with  a  promise  of 
frost.  Then  strange  hummocks  began  to  rise.  They 
were  upheavals  of  ice,  shrouded  in  snow.  Sometimes  a 
higher  one  presented  a  sheer  front  shading  to  bluish- 
green.  They  had  not  passed  this  point  with  Banks,  but 
Morganstein  shaped  a  course  to  a  black  pinnacle,  lifting 
through  the  mist  beyond,  that  he  believed  was  the  crag 
at  the  shoulder.  She  stumbled  repeatedly  on  the  rough 
surface.  Her  labored  breathing  in  the  great  stillness, 
like  the  beat  of  a  pendulum  in  an  empty  house,  tried  his 
strained  nerves.  He  upbraided  her  for  leaving  her  al- 
penstock down  the  slope.  But  she  paid  no  attention. 
She  looked  back  constantly ;  she  was  like  a  woman  being 
led  away  from  a  locked  door,  moving  reluctantly,  listen- 
ing against  hope  for  a  word  or  sign.  So,  at  last,  they 
came  to  the  rock.  It  was  not  the  crag,  but  a  hanging 
promontory,  where  the  mountain  broke  in  a  three-sided 
precipice.  The  cloud  surged  around  it  like  an  un- 
plumbed  sea. 

They  crept  back,  and  Morganstein  tried  again  to  deter- 
mine their  position.  They  were  too  high,  he  concluded; 
they  must  work  down  a  little  to  round  the  cliffs,  so  they 
took  a  course  diagonally  into  the  smother.  Then  he, 
too,  began  to  lose  alertness ;  he  walked  mechanically,  tak- 


320      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ing  the  line  of  least  resistance ;  his  head  sagged  forward ; 
he  saw  nothing  but  the  hummocks  before  him.  These 
grew  larger;  they  changed  to  narrow  ridges  with  fissures 
between.  After  a  while,  one  of  these  breaks  roused  him. 
It  was  exceedingly  deep ;  he  could  not  see  either  end  of  it. 
The  only  way  was  to  leap,  and  he  did  it  clumsily.  Then, 
with  his  alpenstock  fixed,  and  his  spiked  heels  set  in  the 
crust,  he  reached  a  hand  to  her.  She  was  barely  able  to 
spring  to  the  lower  side,  but  it  did  not  terrify  her.  One 
fear  only  possessed  her.  Her  glance,  seeking,  returned 
to  the  hidden  canyon.  But  soon  they  were  confronted 
by  a  wider  and  still  deeper  chasm.  It  was  impossible  to 
cross  it,  though  it  seemed  to  narrow  upwards  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  summit.  He  took  her  arm  and  began  to 
ascend,  looking  for  a  way  over.  The  pitch  grew  steadily 
sharper.  They  entered  the  thinning  edge  of  the  cloud, 
and  it  became  transparent  like  tissue  of  gold.  Suddenly 
it  parted,  and  Frederic  stopped,  blinded  by  the  blaze  of 
a  red  sunset  on  snow.  He  closed  his  eyes  an  instant, 
while,  to  avoid  the  glare,  he  turned  his  face.  His  first 
glance  shocked  him  into  a  sense  of  great  peril.  The 
two  fissures  ran  parallel,  and  they  were  ascending  a  tongue 
of  ice  between.  Not  far  below,  it  narrowed  to  a  point 
where  the  two  crevasses,  uniting,  yawned  in  one.  His 
knees  weakened,  but  he  managed  to  swing  himself  cau- 
tiously around.  The  causeway  seemed  to  rock  under  his 
weight;  then,  shading  his  sight  with  his  hand,  he  saw 
they  were  almost  beneath  the  shoulder  he  had  tried  to 
reach.  They  had  climbed  too  high,  as  he  had  believed, 
but  also  they  had  descended  too  far.  And  they  had  come 
directly  down  the  glacier,  to  cross  the  upper  end  of  which 
Banks  had  found  it  necessary  to  use  a  lifeline. 

"  Be  careful ! "  he  whispered  thickly,  and  laid  his  hand 
on  her  shoulder,  impelling  her  on.  "  Be  careful,  but,  for 
God's  sake,  hurry !  " 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       321 

He  crowded  her  faster  and  faster  up  the  incline;  he 
dared  not  move  abreast,  it  was  so  narrow.  Sometimes 
he  lifted  her  bodily,  for  with  every  step  his  panic  grew. 
Beads  of  moisture  gathered  on  his  face,  though  the  wind 
stiffened  and  sharpened;  his  own  breath  out-labored  hers, 
and  he  cried  again  over  and  over :  "  God  Almighty  1 " 
and  "  Almighty  God  1 "  Sometimes  his  tone  was-  blas- 
phemy and  sometimes  prayer. 

But  the  moment  came  when  she  could  not  be  farther 
pressed.  Her  shoulder  trembled  under  his  hold,  her  limbs 
gave,  and  she  sank  down,  to  her  knees  at  first,  then  to 
her  elbow.  Even  then  she  moved  her  head  enough  to 
look  backward  over  the  abyss.  "  The  train,"  she  whis- 
pered and,  shuddering,  dropped  her  face  on  her  relaxed 
arm. 

Morganstein  ventured  to  glance  back.  Ragged  frag- 
ments torn  from  the  cloud  below  rose  swirling  across 
the  opposite  mountain  top,  and  between  their  edges,  like 
a  picture  in  a  frame,  appeared  briefly  the  roofs  of  the 
little  station.  But  where  the  Oriental  Limited  had  stood, 
the  avalanche  had  passed'.  "  God  Almighty ! "  he  re- 
peated impotently,  then  immediately  the  sense  of  this 
appalling  catastrophe  whet  the  edge  of  his  personal  ter- 
ror. "  Come ! "  he  cried ;  "  come,  you  can't  stop  here. 
It's  dangerous.     Come,  you'll  freeze  —  or  worse." 

She  was  silent.  She  made  no  effort  to  rise  or  indeed 
to  move.  He  began  to  press  by  her  and  on  in  the  direc- 
tion of  that  safe  spur.  But  presently  another  dread 
assailed  him ;  the  dread  of  the  city-bred  man  —  accustomed 
to  human  intercourse,  the  swing  of  business,  the  stir  of 
social  life,  to  face  great  solitudes  alone.  This  cross- 
fear  became  so  strong  it  turned  him  back  in  a  second 
panic.  Then  floundering  to  keep  his  equilibrium  after 
an  incautious  step,  he  sat  down  heavily  and  found  him- 
self skidding  towards  the  larger  crevasse.     He  lifted  his 


322      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

alpenstock  and  in  a  frenzy  thrust  it  into  the  ice  between 
his  knees.  It  caught  fast  just  short  of  the  brink  and 
held  him  astride,  with  heels  dangling  over  the  abyss.  He 
worked  away  cautiously,  laboriously,  shaking  in  all  his 
big,  soft  bulk ;  and  would  have  given  up  further  attempt 
to  rescue  Beatriz  Weatherbee  had  he  not  at  this  moment 
discovered  himself  at  her  side. 

He  had  not  yet  tried  to  rise  to  his  feet,  so  safe-guard- 
ing himself  with  the  alpenstock  thrust  once  more  in  the 
ice,  he  paused  to  take  the  flask  from  his  pocket  and 
poured  all  that  remained  of  the  liquor  into  the  cup.  It 
was  a  little  over  half  full.  Possibly  he  remembered  how 
lavish  he  had  been  with  those  previous  draughts,  for  he 
looked  at  his  companion  with  a  kind  of  regret  as  he 
lifted  the  cup  unsteadily  to  drink.  Then,  gathering  the 
remnants  of  his  courage,  he  put  his  arm  under  her  head, 
raising  it  while  he  forced  the  small  surplus  of  brandy 
he  had  left  between  her  lips.  She  revived  enough  under 
the  scalding  swallow  to  push  the  cup  away.  Anywhere 
else  he  would  have  laughed  at  her  feeble  effort  to  throw 
off^  his  touch ;  but  he  did  not  urge  her  to  finish  the  draught, 
and,  as  he  had  done  earlier  that  day,  himself  hastily 
drained  the  cup.  He  dropped  it  beside  the  empty  flask 
and  struggled  up. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  we've  got  to  make  that  spur  where 
it's  safe.  Come.  It  isn't  far;  just  been  up  to  that  place 
where  Banks  helped  us  across ;  had  to  come  back  for  you." 

But  he  was  obliged  to  lift  her  to  her  feet  and  to  sup- 
port her  up  the  slope.  And  this,  even  though  the  tongue 
widened  above  them,  threw  him  perilously  close  to  the 
crevasse.  Once,  twice,  the  ice  broke  on  the  brink  and 
dropped  clinking  down,  down.  It  was  impossible  to  make 
the  leap  again  to  the  higher  surface  they  had  descended; 
unhampered,  he  must  have  been  physically  unfit.  Be- 
hind them  the  cloud  closed  over  the  Pass  and  the  moun- 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       323 

tain  top  under  which  the  Oriental  Limited  had  stood. 
His  companion  no  longer  looked  back;  she  moved  as 
mechanically  though  less  certainly  than  one  who  walks 
in  sleep.  The  fears  that  possessed  him,  that  she  her- 
self had  held  so  finely  in  check  when  they  had  followed 
Banks  on  this  glacier,  did  not  trouble  her  now.  Her 
indifference  to  their  extremity  began  to  play  on  Frederic's 
unhinged  nerves.  This  white,  blue-lipped  woman  was  not 
the  Beatriz  Weatherbee  he  had  known;  who  had  climbed 
the  slope  with  him  that  morning,  all  exhilaration,  spirit, 
charm;  whose  example  had  challenged  his  endurance  and 
held  his   courage  to  the  sticking  point. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  something? "  he  complained. 
*' Have  you  turned  into  ice.?  Now  look  where  you  step, 
can't  you.?  Deuced  fix  you  got  us  into,  dreaming  there 
in  the  clouds,  when  Lucky  Banks  had  left  the  spur.  Come 
on,  you  bloodless  ghost;  come,  or  I'll  let  you  stay  where 
you  drop.  Nice  place  to  spend  the  night  in.  Almighty 
God!" 

So,  upbraiding  her  when  she  stumbled,  blaming  her 
for  their  plight,  threatening  to  leave  her  if  she  should 
fall,  and  flaying  himself  on  with  renewed  panic,  he  brought 
her  to  the  top  of  the  double  crevasse  and  the  prospector's 
crossing.  But  here,  with  the  levels  of  the  spur  before 
them,  her  strength  reached  low  ebb.  This  time  he  was 
not  able  to  rouse  her,  and  he  threw  down  his  alpenstock 
and  took  her  in  his  armc,  and  went  slipping  and  recover^ 
ing  the  remaining  steps.  He  stopped,  winded,  and  stood 
her  on  her  feet,  but  her  body  sagged  limply  against  him, 
and  the  sight  of  her  still  face  terrified  him.  He  carried 
her  a  little  farther,  to  the  shelter  of  the  crag,  and  laid 
her  there.  Then  he  dropped  to  his  knees  beside  her,  and 
grasping  her  shoulders  shook  her,  at  first  slowly,  then 
swiftly,  with  the  roughness  of  despair. 

*'  Wake  up,"  he   cried  thickly.     "  Wake  up !    Don't 


324       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

jou  see  we're  out  of  that  hole?  Come,  Banks  will  be  here 
any  minute.     Come,  wake  up." 

She  made  no  response.  The  sun  had  set ;  it  was  grow- 
ing bitterly  cold,  and  there  was  little  protection  under 
the  crag.  It  was  a  place  where  cross  winds  met.  Torn 
fragments  from  the  sea  of  cloud  below  drove  against  the 
pinnacle.  It  was  like  a  lofty  headland  breasting  rolling 
surf.  Frederic  stood  erect  and  sent  his  voice  down  through 
the  smother  in  a  great  shout.  It  brought  no  answer, 
and  he  settled  helplessly  on  the  shelf  beside  her.  It  be- 
gan to  hail  furiously,  and  he  dropped  his  face,  shielding 
it  in  his   arms. 

The  storm  passed  and,  rousing  himself,  he  searched  his 
pockets  vainly  for  a  match  to  light  his  remaining  cigar. 
Later  he  went  through  them  again,  hoping  to  find  a  piece 
of  chocolate  —  he  had  carried  some  that  morning  —  but 
this,  too,  was  without  result.  He  fell  to  cursing  the 
packer,  for  appropriating  the  port  and  tinned  things 
that  were  missing  at  lunch-time.  But  after  that  he  did 
not  talk  any  more  and,  in  a  little  while,  he  stretched 
himself  beside  the  unconscious  figure  at  the  foot  of  the 
crag.  A  second  cloud  lifted  in  a  flurry  of  snow.  Every 
hidden  canyon  sent  out  innumerable  currents  of  air,  and 
gales,  meeting,  lifted  the  powdery  crust  in  swirls,  wrap- 
ping them  in  a  white  sheet.  Finally,  from  far  off, 
mingling  with  the  skirling  pipes  of  the  wind  came  a  dif- 
ferent, human  sound.  And,  presently,  when  the  call  —  if 
call  it  was  —  was  repeated,  the  man  sat  up  and  looked 
dully  around.  But  he  made  no  effort  to  reply.  He 
waited,  listening  stupidly,  and  the  cry  did  not  reach  him 
again.  Then,  his  glance  falling  to  the  woman,  a  ray  of 
intelligence  leaped  in  his  eyes.  He  rose  on  his  knees  and 
moved  her  so  there  was  room  for  his  own  bulk  between  her 
body  and  the  rock.  He  had  then,  when  he  stretched  him- 
self on  the  snow,  a  windbreak. 


THE  EVERLASTING  DOOR       325 

TKe  wind  rushed  screaming  into  the  vast  spaces  beyond 
the  mountain  top,  and  returning,  met  the  opposing  forces 
from  the  canyon  and  instantly  became  a  whirlwind.  It 
cut  like  myriads  of  teeth;  it  struck  two-edged  with  the 
swish,  slash  of  a  sword;  and  it  lifted  the  advancing  cloud 
in  a  mighty  swirl,  bellied  it  as  though  it  had  been  a 
gigantic  sail,  and  shook  from  its  folds  a  deluge  of  hail- 
stones followed  by  snow.  Through  it  all  a  grotesque 
shape  that  seemed  sometimes  a  huge,  abnormal  beetle 
and  sometimes  a  beast,  worked  slowly  around  the  crag, 
now  crawling,  now  rearing  upright  with  a  futile  flapping 
of  stiffs  wings,  towards  the  two  human  figures.  It  was 
Lucky  Banks,  come  to  rescue  them. 

A  heavier  blast  threw  him  on  his  face,  but  he  rose  to  his 
knees  and,  creeping  close,  squared  his  shoulders  to  pro- 
tect the  slighter  body.  At  the  same  time  the  significance 
of  the  position  of  Morganstein's  unconscious  bulk  struck 
him,  *'  You  rat !  "  he  cried  with  smothered  fury.  "  You 
damn  rat  1 " 

Then  he  caught  up  a  handful  of  snow  with  which  he 
began  to  rub  the  woman's  face.  Afterwards  he  removed 
her  gloves  to  manipulate  her  cold  hands.  He  worked 
swiftly,  with  the  deftness  of  practice,  but  the  results 
were  slow,  and  presently  he  took  the  rug  from  the  pack 
he  carried  and  covered  her  while  he  felt  in  Frederic's 
pockets  for  the  flask  he  had  neglected  to  return. 
"  Likely  there  wasn't  a  drop  left  when  she  came  to  need 
it,  you  brute.  And  I'd  like  to  leave  you  here  to  take 
your  chances.  You  can  thank  your  luck  I've  got  to  use 
you." 

Banks  keyed  his  voice  high,  between  breaths,  to  out- 
scale  the  wind,  but  he  did  not  wait  for  a  reply.  Before 
he  finished  speaking,  he  had  opened  his  big,  keen-bladed 
clasp-knife  and  commenced  to  cut  broad  strips  from  the 
rug.     He  passed  some  of  these,  not  without  eff^ort,  under 


326        THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Morganstein's  body,  trussing  the  arms.  Then,  wrapping 
the  smaller  figure  snugly  in  the  blanket,  he  lifted  it  on  to 
the  human  toboggan  he  had  made  and  bound  it  securely. 
Finally  he  converted  the  shoulder-straps  of  his  pack  into 
a  sort  of  steering  gear,  to  which  he  fastened  his  life-line. 

These  preparations  had  been  quickly  made.  It  was 
not  yet  dark  when  he  worked  this  sled  over  the  rim  of  the 
spur  and  began  to  descend  the  long  slope.  The  violence 
of  the  wind  was  broken  there,  so  that  he  was  able  to 
travel  erect,  drawing  his  load.  After  a  while,  when  the 
flurry  of  snow  had  passed,  a  crust  formed  on  the  surface, 
and  in  steeper  pitches  he  was  obliged  to  let  the  toboggan 
forge  ahead,  using  himself  as  a  drag.  With  the  change 
to  colder  temperature,  there  was  no  further"  danger  of 
slides,  and  to  avoid  the  avalanche  that  had  turned 
Morganstein  back,  the  prospector  shaped  his  course  more 
directly  into  the  canyon.  Soon  he  was  below  the  clouds ; 
between  their  ragged  edges  a  few  stars  appeared.  Be- 
yond a  buttress  shone  a  ruddy  illumination.  Some  firs 
stood  against  it  darkly.  It  was  the  fire  Marcia  and 
Elizabeth  were  watching  at  the  place  where  he  had  cached 
the  surplus  supplies  that  morning.  It  served  as  a  beacon 
when  the  crispness  ceased,  and  for  an  interval  he  was 
forced  to  mush  laboriously  through  soft  drifts.  Then 
he  came  to  a  first  bare  spot.  It  was  in  crossing  this  rough 
ground  that  Frederic  showed  signs  of  returning  conscious- 
ness. But  Banks  gave  him  no  attention.  He  had  caught 
a  strange  sound  on  the  wind.  Others,  far  off,  rose  while 
he  listened.  Presently,  looking  back  beyond  the  end  of 
the  ridge  that  divided  the  upper  gorge,  he  saw  twinkling 
lights.  They  were  the  lanterns  of  the  searchers  at  the 
wrecked  train. 

The  little  man  did  not  exclaim.  He  did  not  pray.  His 
was  the  anguish  of  soul  which  finds  no  expression. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

KISMET.       AN  ACT  OF  GOD 

AFTERWARDS,  some  who  compared  the  slope  where 
the  Oriental  Limited  had  stood,  with  the  terrible 
pitches  along  the  lower  switchback,  said :  "  It  was  Fate ;  " 
and  the  defense  in  the  damage  suits  against  the  Great 
Northern,  which  were  decided  in  favor  of  the  company, 
called  that  catastrophe  at  Cascade  tunnel  "  An  Act  of 
God."  In  either  solution,  the  fact  that  counted  was  that 
no  avalanche  had  occurred  at  this  point  before;  moun- 
tain men  had  regarded  it  as  absolutely  safe.  At  noon 
that  day,  a  rumor  reached  the  stalled  train  that  a  slide 
at  the  front  had  struck  one  of  the  rotaries.  Laborers,  at 
their  own  peril,  had  excavated  the  crew,  but  the  plow  was 
out  of  commission,  and  the  track  was  buried  sixty  feet 
under  fresh  tons  of  snow  and  rock  and  fallen  timber. 
The  Limited  could  not  move  within  forty-eight  hours, 
perhaps  three  days. 

Tisdale  picked  up  his  bag  and  went  out  to  the  observa- 
tion platform.  He  knew  that  to  attempt  to  follow  the 
railroad  through  those  swaths  the  avalanches  had  left, 
under  the  burned  skeletons  of  trees  ready  to  topple  at  the 
first  pressure  of  other  bodies  of  snow,  was  to  take  one's 
life  needlessly  in  his  hands;  but  there  was  another  way. 
The  slope  from  the  track  at  the  portal  dipped  through  a 
park  of  hemlock  and  fir,  and  the  blaze  that  had  swept  the 
lower  mountainside  had  not  reached  this  timber ;  the  great 
boughs,  like  fishers'  nets,  supported  their  dripping  ac- 
cumulations.    Also,  at  this  altitude,  there  was  no  under- 


328      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

growth.  To  make  the  drop  directly  into  the  canyon  and 
follow  the  river  down  to  Scenic  Hot  Springs  meant  little 
more  to  him  than  a  bracing  tramp  of  a  few  hours. 

Snowshoes  were  a  necessity,  and  the  demand  at  the  little 
station  had  long  exceeded  the  supply,  but  the  operator  was 
able  to  furnish  the  length  of  bale  rope  Tisdale  asked  of 
him.  From  the  office  door,  where  he  had  curiously  fol- 
lowed to  see  the  line  put  to  use,  he  watched  the  traveler 
secure  two  pliable  branches  of  hemlock,  of  the  same  size, 
which  he  brought  to  the  station  platform,  and,  having 
stripped  them  of  needles,  bent  into  ovals.  Then,  laying 
aside  one,  he  commenced  to  weave  half  of  the  rope  net- 
wise,  filling  the  space  in  the  frame  he  held.  A  sudden  in- 
telligence leaped  in  the  agent's  face.  "  That's  simple 
enough,"  he  exclaimed.  "  And  they'll  carry  you  as  far 
as  you  want  to  go." 

Tisdale  smiled,  nodding,  and  picked  up  the  remaining 
frame. 

"  Strange  I  never  saw  any  one  try  the  scheme  before," 
the  operator  commented.  "  I've  weathered  a  good  many 
blockades  up  here;  seen  lots  of  fellows,  men  whose  time 
was  money,  bucking  it  out  to  open  track.  But  I  bet  the 
first  time  this  idea  struck  you  you  were  up  against  it.  I 
bet  it's  a  yam  worth  listening  to." 

Tisdale  glanced  up  ;  the  genial  lines  deepened.  "  It  was 
a  situation  to  clear  a  man's  head.  There  was  snow  from 
three  to  seven  feet  deep  ahead  of  me  and  going  soft.  My 
snowshoes,  lost  with  the  outfit  at  a  hole  in  a  Yukon  cross- 
ing, were  swinging  down-stream  under  the  ice.  I  had  two 
sea  biscuit  in  my  pocket  and  a  few  inches  of  dried  venison, 
with  the  nearest  road-house  over  fifty  miles  away." 

"  Well,  that  was  hard  luck,"  the  agent  shook  his  head 
gravely, 

"  It  was  the  best  kind  of  luck,"  responded  Tisdale 
quickly,' "  to  find  myself  with  that  rope  in  my  hands  and 


KISMET.    AN  ACT  OF  GOD       329 

a  nice  little  spruce  on  the  bank  to  supply  frames  enough 
for  a  regiment.  I  was  rigging  a  kind  of  derrick  to  ease 
my  sled  up  the  sharp  pitch  from  the  crossing." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  operator  thoughtfully,  "  and  the  sled 
broke  through.  Lost  it  and  the  outfit.  But  your  dogs 
^-  saved  them,  didn't  you?  " 

"  All  but  two."  Tisdale's  brows  contracted.  "  They 
were  dragged  under  the  ice  before  I  could  cut  the  traces. 
There  was  leather  enough  on  the  leaders  to  bind  those 
shoes  on,  but  " —  and  the  humorous  lines  deepened  again 
— "  a  couple  of  straps,  from  an  old  suitcase,  if  you  hap- 
pen to  have  one,  would  be  an  improvement." 

The  operator  hurried  into  the  office  and,  after  a  vigor- 
ous search  among  the  miscellaneous  articles  stored  under 
his  desk,  found  an  old  valise,  from  which  he  detached  the 
desired  straps.  Tisdale  adjusted  the  improvised  shoes. 
"  I  will  send  them  back  by  a  brakeman  from  Scenic 
Springs,"  he  said,  rising  from  his  seat  on  the  edge  of  the 
platform.     "  You  can  keep  them  for  a  pattern." 

"  All  right,"  the  operator  laughed.  "  If  you  do,  I'll 
have  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  bale  rope." 

It  was  beginning  to  snow  again,  big,  soft  flakes,  and 
the  wind,  skimming  the  drifts,  speedily  filled  the  broad, 
light  rings  Tisdale  left  in  his  wake.  A  passenger  with  a 
baby  in  his  arms  stood  on  the  observation  platform,  and 
the  child  held  out  its  mittened  hands  to  him,  crowing, 
with  little  springs.  They  had  formed  an  acquaintance 
during  the  delay  in  the  Rockies,  which  had  grown  to  in- 
timacy in  the  Cascades,  and  Hollis  slipped  the  carrying 
strap  of  his  bag  over  his  shoulder  and  stopped  to  toss  him 
a  snowball,  before  he  turned  from  the  track.  "  Good-by, 
Joey,"  he  said.  "  I  am  coming  back  for  you  if  there's  a 
chance." 

The  operator,  shivering,  closed  the  door.  "  Never  saw 
such   a   man,"    he   commented,     "  But    if   he's   lived   in 


330      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Alaska,  a  Cascade  blizzard  would  just  be  a  light  breeze 
to  him."  He  paused  to  put  a  huge  stick  of  wood  in  the 
stove,  then,  after  the  habit  of  solitary  humanity,  resumed 
his  soliloquy.  "  I  bet  he's  seen  life.  I  bet,  whoever  he 
is,  he's  somewheres  near  the  top  of  the  ladder.  I  bet,  in 
a  bunch  of  men,  he  does  the  thinking.  And  I  bet  what 
he  wants,  I  don't  care  what's  piled  in  his  way,  he  gets." 

As  he  descended,  the  trees  closed  behind  Tisdale,  rank 
on  rank,  and  were  enveloped  in  the  swaying  curtain  of  the 
snow.  Always  a  certain  number  surrounded  him;  they 
seemed  to  march  with  him  like  a  bodyguard.  But  he  was 
oblivious  of  the  peril  that  from  the  higher  peak  had  ap- 
peared so  imminent  to  Lucky  Banks.  When  the  snow- 
cloud  lifted,  the  Pass  was  still  completely  veiled  from  him, 
and  the  peak  the  prospector's  party  had  ascended  was  then 
cut  off  by  the  intervening  ridge.  He  had  crossed  the 
headwaters  and  was  working  along  this  slope  down  the 
watercourse,  when  the  noise  of  the  first  avalanche  startled 
the  gorge.  A  little  later  a  far  shout  came  to  his  quick 
ear.  He  answered,  but  when  another  call  reached  him 
from  a  different  point,  high  up  beyond  the  ridge,  he  was 
silent.  He  knew  a  company,  separated  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  slide,  was  trying  to  get  into  communication. 
Then,  in  the  interval  that  he  waited,  listening,  began  the 
ominous  roar  of  the  mightier  cataclysm.  The  mountain 
he  had  descended  seemed  to  heave ;  its  front  gave  way ;  the 
ridge  on  which  he  stood  trembled  at  the  concussion. 

Instantly,  before  the  clamor  ceased  and  the  first  cries 
reached  him,  Tisdale  knew  what  had  occurred.  His  sense 
of  location  told  him.  Then  the  fact  was  pressed  on  him 
that  some  on  the  unfortunate  train  still  survived.  He  saw 
that  the  course  he  had  taken  from  the  west  portal  was  no 
longer  possible,  but  by  keeping  the  curve  of  the  ridge 
which  joined  the  mountain  slope  and  formed  the  top  of  the 
gorge,  and  by  working  upward,  he  should  be  able  to  gain 


KISMET.    AN  ACT  OF  GOD       331 

the  upper  edge  of  the  slide  where  rose  the  human  sounds. 
He  took  this  way.  His  shoulder,  turned  a  little,  met  the 
lower  boughs  with  the  dip  and  push  of  the  practiced  woods- 
man, and  even  on  the  up-grade  the  distance  fell  behind  him 
swiftly.  Always  subconsciously,  as  he  moved,  he  saw  that 
baby  crowing  him  a  good-by,  and  the  young  father  smil- 
ing Godspeed  from  the  observation  platform;  sometimes 
the  girl  mother  with  tender  brown  eyes  watched  him  from 
the  background.  Suppose  their  coach,  which  had  directly 
preceded  the  observation  car,  had  escaped;  the  snow- 
cloud,  parting  on  the  mountain  top,  showed  that  the  roofs 
of  the  station  still  remained. 

After  a  while  he  noticed  two  men  working  downward  from 
the  portal  along  the  swath  of  the  avalanche.  One,  he 
conjectured,  was  the  operator,  but  they  stopped  some  dis- 
tance above  him  and  commenced  to  remove  sections  of  the 
debris.  Then  Hollis  saw  before  him  some  brilliant  spots 
on  the  snow.  They  proved  to  be  only  pieces  of  stained 
glass  from  a  shattered  transom.  The  side  of  the  car 
with  denuded  window  casings  rested  a  few  feet  higher, 
and  a  corner  of  the  top  of  the  coach  protruded  from  under 
the  fallen  skeleton  of  a  fir.  The  voices  now  seemed  all 
around  him.  Somewhere  a  man  was  shouting  "  Help  I " 
Another  groaned,  cursing,  and,  deeper  in  the  wreckage, 
rose  a  woman's  muffled,  continous  screaming.  But,  nearer 
than  the  rest,  a  child  was  crying  piteously.  He  reached 
the  intact  portion  of  the  crushed  roof  and  found  the  baby 
sitting  unhurt  on  a  clear  breadth  of  snow.  The  body  of 
the  father  was  pinned  hopelessly  beneath  the  tree,  and  the 
mother  lay  under  the  fragment  of  roof,  an  iron  bar  on 
her  tender  eyes.  It  was  as  though  Destiny,  having  de- 
stroyed them,  whimsically  threw  a  charmed  circle  around 
this  remaining  atom  of  the  family. 

"  Well,  Joey,"  Tisdale  said  quietly,  "  I've  come  back 
for  you." 


332      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Instantly  the  child  stopped  crying  and  turned  to  listen ; 
then,  seeing  Tisdale,  he  began  to  crow,  rocking  his  little 
body  and  catching  up  handsful  of  snow  to  demonstrate  his 
delight.  The  hands  and  round  bud  of  a  mouth  were 
blue. 

"  Cold,  isn't  it,  Joey?  "  And  he  took  the  baby  in  his 
arms.  "  We  can't  find  your  coat  and  mittens,  but  here 
is  a  nice  blanket." 

He  stooped,  as  he  spoke,  and  pulled  the  blanket  from 
under  a  broken  door,  and  the  child  nestled  its  face  in  his 
neck,  telling  him  in  expressive,  complaining  sounds  the 
story  of  his  terror  and  discomfort. 

A  man  burrowed  out  of  the  snow  above  the  log.  His 
leg  was  injured,  but  he  began  to  creep,  dragging  it,  in 
the  direction  of  the  woman's  voice.  "  I'm  coming,  Mary," 
he  cried.     "  For  God's  sake,  stop." 

Tisdale  picked  up  a  strip  from  the  broken  door  and 
hurried  to  his  aid.  He  put  the  child  down  and  used  the 
board  as  a  shovel,  and  Joey,  watching  from  the  peephole 
in  his  blanket,  laughed  and  crowed  again.  Up  the  slope 
the  operator  and  his  companion  had  extricated  a  brake- 
man,  who,  forgetting  his  own  injuries,  joined  the  little 
force  of  rescuers. 

At  last  the  cries  ceased.  Haste  was  no  longer  impera- 
tive. The  remaining  coaches  were  buried  under  tons  of 
snow  and  debris.  Weeks  of  labor,  with  relays  of  men, 
might  not  reach  them  all.  And  it  was  time  to  let  the  out- 
side world  know.  The  telephone  lines  were  down,  the  tele- 
graph out  of  commission,  and  Tisdale,  with  the  baby  to 
bear  him  company,  started  to  carry  the  news  to  Scenic 
Hot  Springs. 

It  had  grown  very  cold  when  he  rounded  the  top  of  the 
gorge.  The  arrested  thaw  hung  in  myriads  of  small  ici- 
cles on  every  bough;  they  changed  to  rubies  when  the  late 
sun  blazed  out  briefly ;  the  trees  seemed  strung  with  gems ; 


KISMET.    AN  ACT  OF  GOD       333 

the  winds  that  gathered  on  the  high  dome  above  the  upper 
canyon  rushed  across  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  They 
fluted  every  pipe,  and,  as  though  it  were  an  enchanted  for- 
est, all  the  small  pendants  on  all  the  branches  changed 
to  striking  cymbals  and  silver  bells.  The  baby  slept  as 
warm  and  safe  in  his  blanket  as  though  he  had  not  left 
his  mother's  arms. 

Once  there  came  a  momentary  lull,  and  on  the  silence, 
far  off  —  so  far  it  seemed  hardly  more  than  a  human 
breath  drifting  with  the  lighter  current  that  still  set 
towards  him  from  the  loftier  peak  —  Tisdale  heard  some 
one  calling  him.  His  pulses  missed  their  beat  and  raced 
on  at  fever  heat.  He  believed,  in  that  halting  instant, 
it  was  Beatriz  Weatherbee.  Then  the  gale,  making  up 
for  the  pause,  swept  down  in  fury,  and  he  hurried  under 
the  shelter  of  the  ridge  with  the  child.  He  told  himself 
there  had  been  no  voice ;  it  was  an  illusion.  That  the 
catastrophe,  following  so  closely  on  his  illness,  had  un- 
hinged him  a  little.  The  Morganstein  party  had  doubt- 
less returned  to  Seattle  at  the  beginning  of  the  thaw ;  and 
even  had  Mrs.  Weatherbee  remained  at  Scenic  Springs, 
it  was  not  probable  she  had  strayed  far  from  the  comfort 
and  safety  of  the  hotel.  And  recalling  that  night  she  had 
passed  in  the  Wenatchee  mountains,  he  smiled. 

As  twilight  fell,  a  ruddy  illumination  outlined  the  ridge. 
He  conjectured  that  the  men  he  had  heard  early  in  the 
afternoon  in  the  vicinity  of  the  first  slide  were  a  party  of 
belated  hunters,  who  had  camped  in  the  upper  canyon. 
They  must  have  known  of  the  greater  avalanche ;  possibly 
of  the  disaster.  They  may  have  sent  a  messenger  to  the 
Springs  and  kindled  this  beacon  to  guide  any  one  who 
might  choose  this  way  to  bring  the  news  from  the  portal. 
At  least  they  would  be  able  to  direct  him  to  the  shortest 
cut ;  serve  him  the  cup  of  coffee  of  which  he  was  in  need. 
So,  coming  to  the  end  of  the  ridge  where  the  canyons  met, 


334      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

he  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  fire,  and  found  —  two 
waiting  women. 

Their  presence  alone  was  an  explanation.  Mrs.  Fever- 
sham  had  only  to  say  Lucky  Banks  had  led  their  party, 
in  the  ascent  of  the  peak  that  brilliant  morning,  and  in- 
stantly everything  was  clear  to  Tisdale.  The  voice  he 
had  heard  from  the  top  of  the  ridge  was  not  an  illusion. 
She  had  called  him. 

"  It  was  snowing,"  he  said,  interrupting  the  story,  "  but 
if  they  left  the  shadow  of  a  trail,  Banks  found  it.  There 
are  two  of  them,  though,  and  up  there  —  it's  cold." 
Then,  having  gone  a  few  steps,  he  remembered  the  child 
and  came  back  to  put  him  in  Elizabeth's  arms.  *'  His 
father  and  mother  are  dead,"  he  explained  briefly,  "  but 
he  hasn't  a  bruise.  When  he  wakes,  he  is  going  to  be 
hungry." 

So,  forgetting  those  wearing  hours  of  rescue  work,  and 
without  the  coffee  for  which  he  had  intended  to  ask,  he 
started  on  the  prospector's  trail.  In  a  little  while,  as  he 
skirted  the  foot  of  the  slide,  he  heard  a  great  commotion 
on  the  slope  beyond.  It  was  Lucky  Banks  easing  his 
human  toboggan  down  the  last  pitch  to  the  canyon  floor. 

The  two  men  stood  a  silent  moment  scanning  each  other 
in  the  uncertain  light  across  that  load.  Tisdale's  eyes 
were  searching  for  an  answer  to  the  question  he  could 
not  ask,  but  the  prospector,  breathing  hard,  was  trying 
to  cover  the  emotion  Tisdale's  unexpected  appearance  had 
roused. 

"  HeUo,  Hollis,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Is  that  you?  I  had 
to  see  after  Dave's  wife,  but  I  thought  likely,  when  I 
got  her  to  camp,  I'd  take  a  little  hike  up  to  the  tunnel 
and  look  you  up." 

But  Tisdale,  not  finding  the  answer  for  which  he  looked, 
sank  to  his  knee  beside  the  load  and  loosened  the  straps. 
Then  he  lifted  a  comer  of  the  rug  that  protected  her  face, 


KISMET.    AN  ACT  OF  GOD       335 

and  at  the  sight  of  it,  so  white,  so  still,  his  heart  cried. 
**  Little  soldier ! "  he  said  over  and  over  and,  as  though 
he  hoped  to  warm  them,  laid  his  cheek  gently  to  her  blue 
lips.  "  You  called  me !  I  heard  you.  I  failed  you, 
too!" 

Then  a  fluttering  breath  steadied  him.  Instantly  the 
iron  in  the  man  cropped  through.  He  felt  her  pulse,  her 
heart,  as  though  she  had  been  some  stranger  from  the 
unfortunate  train  and,  moving  her  to  a  level  place,  fixed 
her  head  low  and  began  firmly,  with  exceeding  care,  those 
expedients  to  eliminate  the  frost  and  start  the  circulation 
that  Banks  had  already  hurriedly  tried.  His  great,  warm 
personality  enfolded  her;  he  worked  tirelessly,  as  though 
he  was  determined  to  infuse  her  numb  veins  with  his  own 
vigor.  When  the  prospector  would  have  aided  him,  he 
wished  to  do  everything  alone,  and  directed  the  miner's 
attention  to  Frederic  Morganstein,  who  showed  signs  of 
returning  consciousness. 

But  the  intrepid  little  man  failed  to  respond.  "  I  guess 
likely  he  will  pull  through,"  he  said  dryly.  "  He  had  a 
pretty  good  shaking  up  coming  down,  and  I'd  better  run 
around  to  camp  and  get  a  bottle  of  port  I  cached  this 
morning.  The  snipe  got  away  with  my  flask;  used  the 
last  drop,  likely,  before  she  needed  it."  His  voice  took  a 
higher  pitch,  and  he  added  over  his  shoulder,  as  he  started 
in  the  direction  of  the  fire :  "  He  made  a  windbreak  of 
her." 

When  he  returned  presently  with  the  wine,  Frederic 
was  filling  the  night  with  his  complaints  and  groans.  But 
neither  of  the  men  gave  him  any  attention.  That  was 
left  for  Marcia,  who  had  followed  the  prospector. 

Beatriz  Weatherbee  was  still  unconscious.  She  was 
carried  to  the  camp  and  laid  in  a  sheltered  place  re- 
mote from  the  fire.  Then  Lucky  Banks  volunteered  to 
go  to   Scenic   Springs  with  the  news   of  the  train  dis- 


336      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

aster,  and  to  bring  an  extra  man  with  lanterns  and  a 
stretcher.  He  was  well  on  the  way  when  Morganstein 
crept  in.  Marcia  found  him  a  seat  on  the  end  of  a  log 
and,  wrapping  the  cached  rug  about  him,  regaled  him  with 
the  recovered  portion  of  the  luncheon.  But  it  was  long 
after  that  when  Beatriz  Weatherbee's  eyelids  fluttered 
open.  Tisdale  drew  a  little  more  into  the  shadows,  wait- 
ing, and  the  first  to  come  within  her  range  of  vision  was 
the  child.  He  was  sitting  on  his  blanket  in  the  strong 
glow,  and  just  beyond  him  Elizabeth,  who  had  found  a 
tin  of  cream  in  the  cache  and  had  been  feeding  him,  was 
putting  away  the  cup.  Joey  faced  the  waking  woman 
and,  catching  her  look,  he  put  out  his  hands,  rocking 
gayly,  and  crowed.  Instantly  a  flash  of  intelligence 
lighted  her  face.  She  smiled  and  tried  to  stretch  out  her 
arms.     "  Come !  "  she  said. 

Elizabeth  caught  up  the  child  and  placed  him  beside  her 
on  the  rug.  He  put  out  his  soft,  moist  fingers,  touching 
her  face  curiously,  with  gathering  doubt.  Then,  satisfied 
this  was  not  his  mother,  as  in  the  uncertain  light  he  must 
have  supposed,  he  drew  back  with  a  whimper  and  clung  to 
Elizabeth. 

At  the  same  moment  Mrs.  Weatherbee's  smile  changed 
to  disappointment.  "  His  eyes  are  brown,  Elizabeth,"  she 
said,  "  and  my  baby's  were  blue,  like  mine."  And  she 
turned  her  face,  weeping;  not  hysterically,  like  a  woman 
physically  unstrung,  but  with  the  slow,  deep  sobs  of  a 
woman  who  has  wakened  from  a  dream  of  one  whom  she 
has  greatly  loved  —  and  buried. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SURRENDER 

TISDALE  had  not  seen  Beatriz  Weatherbee  since  she 
had  been  brought  semi-conscious  from  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  but  he  learned  from  the  hotel  physician 
the  following  morning  that  she  was  able  to  travel  on  the 
special  train  which  was  coming  from  Seattle  to  transport 
the  Morganstein  party  home.  The  first  inquiry,  after 
news  of  the  disaster  reached  the  outside  world,  was  from 
Joey's  grandfather,  a  lumberman  on  Puget  Sound.  Put 
in  communication  with  Tisdale,  he  telephoned  he  would 
arrive  at  the  Springs  on  the  special.  So,  leaving  the  child 
in  charge  of  the  housekeeper,  Hollis  returned  to  the  west 
portal,  to  join  the  little  force  of  rescuers.  It  was  then 
no  longer  a  question  of  life-saving,  but  of  identification. 
The  Swiss  chalet,  which  had  ceased  to  be  the  mecca  of 
pleasure-seekers,  had  become  a  morgue. 

But  Lucky  Banks,  who  went  with  him,  had  received  a 
message  from  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  and  in  the  interval  that 
Tisdale  was  busy  with  long-distance  and  disposing  of 
Joey,  the  prospector  went  up  to  her  room.  She  was  pale 
and  very  weak,  but  she  smiled  as  he  approached  her  couch 
and  held  out  her  hand.  "  No,  the  right  one,"  she  said, 
and  added,  taking  it  with  a  gentle  pressure,  "  I  know, 
now,  what  it  is  —  to  be  cold." 

The  little  man  nodded.  His  face  worked,  and  he  hur- 
ried to  conceal  the  maimed  hand  in  his  pocket.  "  But 
the  doctor  says  you'll  pull  through  good  as  new,"  he  com- 
mented.    "  I  am  proud  to  know  that ;  my,  yes." 


338      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  And  I  am  proud  of  you,  Mr.  Banks.  It  seems  in- 
credible, but  Miss  Morganstein  told  me  you  rescued  her 
brother,  too.  I've  tried  and  tried  to  remember,  but  I  am 
not  able.  You  must  have  carried  me,  at  least,  all  of  the 
way." 

Banks  glanced  at  Elizabeth,  who  was  seated  beyond 
the  couch.  She  had  laid  a  warning  finger  to  her  lips  and 
shook  her  head.  "  That  was  dead  easy  coming  down- 
grade," he  answered.  "  And  that  little  blow  up  there  on 
the  mountain  top  wasn't  anything  to  speak  of,  alongside 
a  regular  Alaska  blizzard.  If  I'd  had  to  weight  my  pock- 
ets with  rocks,  that  would  have  been  something  doing.  I 
might  have  felt  then  that  I  was  squaring  myself  with  Dave 
Weatherbee." 

"  I  understand,"  she  said  slowly,  "  but,"  and  she  smiled 
again,  "  I  am  grateful,  Mr.  Banks,  just  the  same.  Per- 
haps, since  you  loved  David  so  much,  you  will  regard  it 
as  a  kind  of  compensation  that  I  am  going  on  with  the 
project." 

"Is  that  so?"  The  little  man  beamed.  "Well,  the 
house  is  all  done  and  waiting,  my,  yes,  whenever  you  are 
ready  to  move  over." 

"  Why,  Beatriz,"  said  Elizabeth  in  alarm,  "  I  am  going 
to  take  that  desert  tract  off  your  hands.  I've  been  in- 
terested in  reclamation  work  for  months."  And  looking 
at  Banks,  she  added  significantly :  "  I  am  afraid  she  is 
talking  too  much." 

*'  Likely,"  replied  the  prospector,  rising,  "  and  I  am 
due  to  take  a  little  hike  up  the  canyon  with  Hollis  Tis- 
dale." 

"Mr.  Tisdale?"  she  asked,  with  a  quick  brightening 
of  her  face.  "  Then  he  is  quite  well  again.  Miss  Morgan- 
stein told  me  he  was  saved  —  from  that  unfortunate 
train,"  and  she  added,  shivering  and  closing  her  eyes,  "  I 
remember  —  that." 


SURRENDER  339 

"  I  couldn't  have  got  there  in  time,"  Banks  hurried  to 
explain,  "  even  if  you  had  given  up  making  the  summit. 
Likely  I'd  have  got  caught  by  the  slide,  and  Hollis  was 
half-way  to  the  Springs  and  '  feeling  fit  as  a  moose '  when 
it  started.     Well,  good-by,  ma'am ;  take  care  of  yourself." 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Banks,"  and  she  smiled  once  more. 
**  You  may  expect  me  at  Hesperides  Vale  in  a  few  days ; 
as  soon  as  my  things  at  Vivian  Court  are  packed."  And 
she  added,  with  the  color  softly  warming  her  cheek,  "  Mr. 
Tisdale  might  like  to  know  that.  He  always  wished  to  see 
David's  project  carried  through." 

And  the  little  man  replied  from  the  door :  "  I'll  tell 
him,  ma'am,  my,  yes." 

The  special,  which  brought  other  seekers  besides  Joey's 
grandfather,  also  conveyed  Jimmie  Daniels.  It  was  his 
last  assignment  with  the  Press;  he  and  Geraldine  were  to 
be  married  within  the  week  and  assume  the  editorial  posi- 
tion at  Weatherbee.  And  he  pushed  up  over  Tisdale's 
trail,  now  become  well  broken,  eager  to  make  a  final 
scoop  and  his  best  one.  Hours  later,  when  he  should 
have  been  back  at  Scenic  Hot  Springs,  rushing  his  copy 
through  to  his  paper,  he  still  remained  on  the  slope  be- 
low the  west  portal  to  carry  out  the  brief  and  forceful 
instructions  of  the  man  who  directed  and  dominated 
everybody;  who  knew  in  each  emergency  the  one  thing 
to  do.  Once  Jimmie  found  himself  aiding  Banks  to  wrap 
a  woman's  body  in  a  blanket  to  be  lowered  by  tackle  down 
the  mountainside.  She  was  young,  not  older  than 
Geraldine,  and  the  sight  of  her  —  rounded  cheek,  dimpled 
chin,  arm  so  beautifully  molded  —  all  with  the  life  snuffed 
out  without  a  moment's  warning  —  gave  him  a  sensa- 
tion of  being  smothered.  He  was  seized  with  a  compelling 
desire  to  get  away,  and  to  conquer  his  panic,  he  asked 
the  prospector  whether  this  man  was  not  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  mountain  division. 


340      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  mining  man  replied :  "  No,  that's  the  railroad  boss 
over  there  with  the  gang  handling  the  derrick ;  this  is 
Tisdale,  HoUis  Tisdale  of  Alaska  and  Washington,  D.  C. 
You  ought  to  have  heard  of  him  in  your  line  of  business 
if  you  never  happened  to  see  him  before." 

Then  Jimmie,  turning  to  look  more  directly  at  the 
stranger,  hastily  dropped  his  face.  "  You  are  right," 
he  said  softly,  "  I've  known  him  by  sight  some  time." 

Afterwards,  while  they  were  having  coffee  with  the 
station  master,  Daniels  asked  Banks  how  he  and  Tisdale 
happened  to  be  at  Cascade  Tunnel.  "  I  was  putting  in  a 
little  time  at  the  Springs,"  Banks  responded,  "  but  Hollis 
was  a  passenger  on  the  stalled  train.  He  took  a  notion 
to  hike  down  to  the  hotel  just  ahead  of  the  slide." 

"  You  mean  that  man  who  has  taken  charge  out  there," 
exclaimed  the  operator.  "  I  had  a  talk  with  him  before 
he  started;  he  was  rigging  up  some  snowshoes.  He  said 
he  was  from  Alaska,  and  I  put  him  down  for  one  of  those 
bonanza  kings." 

"  He  is,"  said  Banks  in  his  high  key.  "  What  he 
don't  know  about  minerals  ain't  worth  knowing,  and  he 
owns  one  of  the  finest  layouts  in  the  north,  Dave  Weather- 
bee's  bore." 

''  The  Aurora  mine,"  confirmed  Daniels.  "  And  I 
presume  there  isn't  a  man  better  known,  or  as  well  liked, 
in  Alaska." 

Banks  nodded.  "  Dave  and  him  was  a  team.  The 
best  known  and  the  best  liked  in  the  whole  country. 
And  likely  there's  men  on  the  top  seats  in  Washington, 
D.  C,  would  be  glad  of  a  chance  to  shake  hands  with 
Hollis  Tisdale." 

*'  I  knew  he  was  somewhere  near  the  top,"  commented 
the  operator.  "  He  can  handle  men.  I  never  saw  such 
a  fellow.  Why,  he  must  have  got  half-way  to  the  Springs 
when   the   slide  started,  but  he  was   back,   climbing  up 


SURRENDER  341 

along  the  edge  of  it  to  the  wreck,  almost  before  it  quit 
thundering.  And  he  took  out  a  live  baby,  without  a 
damage  mark,  and  all  its  folks  lying  right  there  dead,  be- 
fore the  rest  of  us  got  in  earshot." 

Daniels  put  down  his  sandwich  and  took  out  his  neg- 
lected notebook.  He  gathered  all  the  detail  the  ready 
operator  could  supply:  how  Tisdale  had  wrapped  the 
child  in  a  blanket  and  carried  him  from  place  to  place, 
talking  to  him  in  his  nice,  friendly  way,  amusing  him, 
keeping  him  quiet,  while  he  worked  with  the  strength  of 
two  men  to  liberate  other  survivors.  And  how,  when 
none  was  left  to  save,  he  had  taken  the  baby  in  his  arms 
and  gone  to  break  trail  to  the  Springs  to  send  out  news 
of  the  disaster.  All  that  the  station  master  and  Banks 
could  not  tell  him,  with  the  name  and  prominence  of 
Joey's  family,  Jimmie  added  later  at  the  chalet,  and  he 
finished  with  a  skilful  reference  to  the  papoose,  killed 
by  accident  so  many  years  before.  It  was  a  great  story. 
It  went  into  the  paper  as  it  stood.  And  when  the  day 
came  to  leave  the  Press  office,  the  chief,  shaking  hands 
with  his  "  novelist,"  said  it  was  a  fine  scoop,  and  he 
had  always  known  Jimmie  had  it  in  him  to  make  good; 
he  was  sorry  to  lose  him.  But  the  Society  Editor,  reading 
between  the  lines,  told  him  it  was  the  greatest  apology 
he  could  have  made.     She  was  proud  of  him. 

At  Vivian  Court  late  that  afternoon,  Elizabeth  read  the 
story  to  Beatriz  Weatherbee.  Her  couch  was  drawn  into 
the  sunny  alcove,  where,  from  her  pillows,  she  might 
watch  the  changing  light  on  Mount  Rainier.  Finally, 
when  Elizabeth  finished,  Beatriz  broke  the  silence.  "  He 
must  have  passed  down  the  canyon  while  we  were  there." 

"  Yes,  he  did.  He  carried  one  end  of  your  stretcher 
all  the  way  to  the  Springs."  Then  Elizabeth  asked: 
"  Don't  you  remember  the  baby,  either.?  He  had  brown 
eyes." 


342      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"I  seem  to  remember  a  child,"  she  answered  slowly, 
"  a  baby  sitting  in  the  firelight,  but  " —  and  she  shook 
her  head,  "  I've  dreamed  so  many  dreams." 

"  He  was  a  fact ;  a  perfect  dear.  I  should  have  adopted 
him,  if  his  relatives  hadn't  been  so  prominent  and  rich. 
And  you,  too,  fell  instantly  in  love  with  him.  You  wanted 
him  in  your  arms  the  moment  you  opened  your  eyes." 

Elizabeth  paused  with  a  straight  look  from  under  her 
heavy  brows  and  while  she  hesitated  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  door.  She  threw  it  open  and  a  porter  brought  in 
one  of  those  showy  Japanese  shrubs  in  an  ornate  jardi- 
niere, such  as  Frederic  Morganstein  so  often  used  as  an 
expression  of  his  regard.  His  card  hung  by  a  ribbon  from 
a  branch,  like  a  present  on  a  Christmas  tree,  and  when  the 
boy  had  gone,  she  untied  it  and  carried  it  to  Mrs.  Weather- 
bee.  "  I  wish  you  could  marry  Frederic  and  settle  it 
all,"  she  said.     "  Japan  is  lovely  in  the  spring." 

Beatriz,  who  had  taken  the  card  indifferently,  allowed 
it  to  drop  without  reading  it.  Her  glance  rested  again 
on  the  shining  dome. 

"  I  told  him  I  would  ask  you  to  see  him  a  few  moments 
to-night,"  Elizabeth  resumed.  ^'  He  is  feeling  miserably. 
He  says  he  was  ill  when  we  made  the  ascent  that  day  and 
never  should  have  left  the  hotel;  his  high  temperature 
and  the  altitude  affected  his  head.  He  believes  he  must 
have  said  things  that  offended  or  frightened  you  —  things 
he  wasn't  responsible  for."  She  paused,  then,  for  a  woman 
who  had  been  so  schooled  to  hold  herself  in  hand  as 
Elizabeth  Morganstein,  went  on  uncertainly :  "  He  is 
just  a  plain  business  man,  used  to  going  straight  to  a 
point,  but  not  many  men  care  so  much  for  a  woman  as 
he  does  for  you.  You  could  mold  him  like  wax.  He 
says  all  he  wants  now  —  if  he  did  make  a  mistake  —  is 
a  chance  to  wipe  it  out ;  start  with  a  clean  slate." 

Mrs.  Weatherbee  rose  from  the  couch.     She  stood  a 


SURRENDER  343 

moment  meeting  Elizabeth's  earnest  look.  The  shadow 
of  a  smile  touched  her  mouth,  but  well-springs  of  affection 
brimmed  her  eyes.  "  We  cannot  wipe  out  our  mistakes, 
dear,"  she  said.  "  They  are  indelible.  We  have  to  ac- 
cept them,  study  them,  use  them  as  a  rule  from  which 
to  work  out  the  problems  of  our  lives.  There  is  no  going 
back,  no  starting  over,  if  we  have  missed  an  easier  way. 
Elizabeth,  in  one  hour  on  that  mountain  I  saw  more  of  the 
true  Frederic  Morganstein  than  in  all  the  years  I  had 
known  him  before.  In  the  great  moments  of  life,  I  should 
have  no  influence  with  him.  Even  for  your  sake,  dear, 
I  could  not  marry  him.  I  do  not  want  to  see  him  any 
more." 

There  was  a  silence,  then  Elizabeth  said :  "  In  that 
case,  I  am  going  to  ease  things  for  you.  I  am  going  to 
buy  that  desert  land.  Now,  don't  say  a  word.  I  am 
going  to  pay  you  Lucky  Banks'  price,  and,  of  course,  for 
the  improvements  whatever  is  right." 

"  But  it  is  not  on  the  market,"  replied  Beatriz.  "  I 
told  you  I  had  decided  to  live  there.  I  hoped  —  you  would 
like  to  go  with  me.  For  awhile,  at  least,  you  might  find  it 
interesting." 

Elizabeth  tried  to  dissuade  her.  It  was  ridiculous.  It 
was  monstrous.  She  was  not  strong  enough.  It  would 
be  throwing  her  life  away,  as  surely  as  to  transplant  a 
tender  orchid  to  that  burning  sage-brush  country.  But  in 
the  end  she  said :  "  Well,  Bee,  then  I'll  go  with  you." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

BACK    TO    HESPERIDES    VALE 

THE  Mayor  of  Weatherbee  stopped  his  new,  six-pas- 
senger car  at  the  curb  in  front  of  the  completed 
brick  block ;  not  at  the  comer  which  was  occupied  by  the 
Merchants'  National  Bank,  but  at  the  adjoining  entrance, 
above  which  shone  the  neat  gilt  sign :  "  Madame  Lucile's." 
He  stood  for  a  moment  surveying  the  window  display, 
which  was  exceedingly  up-to-date,  showing  the  prevailing 
color  scheme  of  green  or  cerise  in  the  millinery,  softened 
by  a  background  of  mauve  and  taupe  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  gowns.  A  card,  placed  unobtrusively  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  plate  glass,  announced  that  Madame  Lucile, 
formerly  with  Sedgewick-Wilson  of  Seattle,  was  prepared 
to  give  personal  attention  to  all  orders. 

Bailey  himself  that  day  was  equipped  in  a  well-made 
suit  from  the  tailoring  establishment  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  building.  Though  he  had  not  yet  gathered 
that  avoirdupois  which  is  associated  with  the  dignity  of 
office,  there  was  in  his  square  young  frame  an  undeniable 
promise.  Already  he  carried  himself  with  the  deliberation 
of  a  man  whose  future  is  assured,  and  his  mouth  took 
those  upward  curves  of  one  who  is  humorously  satisfied 
with  himself  and  his  world. 

There  were  no  customers  when  he  entered,  and  since 
it  was  the  hour  when  her  assistant  was  out  at  lunch, 
Madame,  attired  in  a  gown  of  dark  blue  velvet,  her  black 
hair  arranged  with  elaborate  care,  was  alone  in  the  shop. 
And  Bailey's  glance,  having  traveled  the  length  of  the 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     345 

soft  green  carpet  to  the  farthest  mirror,  returned  in  final 
approval  to  her.  "  This  certainly  is  swell,"  he  said. 
"  It's  like  a  sample  right  out  of  Chicago.  But  I  knew 
you  could  do  it,  the  minute  Mrs.  Banks  mentioned  you. 
Why,  the  first  time  I  saw  you  —  it  was  on  the  street  the 
day  I  struck  Wenatchee  —  I  told  myself :  '  This  town 
can't  be  very  wild  and  woolly  if  it  can  turn  out  anything 
as  classy  as  that.'  " 

Madame  laughed.  "  I  must  have  looked  like  a  moving 
fashion  plate  to  attract  attention  that  way.  I  feel  a 
little  over-dressed  now,  after  wearing  the  uniform  in 
Sedgewick- Wilson's  so  long;  but  Mrs.  Banks  said  I  ought 
to  wear  nice  clothes  to  advertise  the  store." 

Bailey  tipped  back  his  head  at  that,  laughing  softly. 
"  I  guess  your  silent  partner  is  going  to  be  the  power 
behind  the  throne,  all  right." 

Madame  nodded,  with  the  humor  still  lingering  in  her 
brown  eyes.  "  But  it  was  good  advice.  I  sold  a  gown 
like  this  to  my  first  customer  this  morning.  And  she 
had  only  come  in  to  see  millinery ;  she  hadn't  meant  to 
look  at  gowns.  But  she  liked  this  one  the  moment  she 
saw  it." 

"  Is  that  so.?  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  It  certainly 
looks  great  —  on  you." 

Madame  flushed  and  turned  her  face  to  look  off^  through 
the  plate  glass  door.  "  Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  didn't 
tell  me  your  new  automobile  had  come."  She  moved  a 
few  steps,  sweeping  the  car  with  admiring  eyes.  "  Isn't 
it  luxurious  though,  and  smart?  But  you  deserve  it; 
you  deserve  everything  that's  coming  to  you  now,  stay- 
ing here,  sticking  it  out  as  you  have  in  the  heat  and 
sand.  I  often  thought  of  it  summer  days  while  I  was 
over  on  the  Sound." 

"You  did?"  questioned  Bailey  in  pleased  surprise. 
"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  know  that.     I  wonder  whether  you 


346      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ever  thought  over  the  time  we  tramped  the  railroad  ties 
up  to  Leavenworth  to  that  little  dance?  " 

"  Often,"  she  responded  quickly.  "  And  how  we  came 
back  in  the  Oleson  wagon,  riding  behind  with  our  heels 
hanging  over,  and  the  dust  settling  like  powder  on  our 
party  clothes.  But  I  had  the  loveliest  time.  It  was 
the  starriest  night,  with  moonlight  coming  home,  and  I 
danced  every  number." 

"  Seven  times  with  me,"  returned  the  mayor. 

"  I  wanted  to  learn  the  two-step,"  she  explained 
hastily. 

"  And  I  wanted  to  teach  you,"  he  laughed.  "  But  say, 
how  would  you  like  to  take  a  little  spin  up  the  Leaven- 
worth road  this  evening,  in  the  new  car.^^  " 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  delightful."  Madame  Lucile 
glowed.     "  With  a  party  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  thought  of  asking  Daniels  and  his  wife  to  go 
with  us.  I  am  on  the  way  to  the  station  now,  to  meet 
them.  And  Mrs.  Weatherbee  and  Miss  Morganstein  are 
due  on  the  same  train.  I  promised  Mr.  Banks  I  would 
take  them  out  to  the  Orchards  in  the  machine;  but  we  are 
to  motor  around  to  the  new  bungalow  first,  to  leave  the 
bride  and  Jimmie  and  have  luncheon." 

"  I  know.  Mrs.  Banks  is  going  to  have  the  table  in 
that  wide  veranda  looking  down  the  river.  I  would  like 
to  be  there  when  they  find  out  that  dear  little  bungalow 
is  their  wedding  present.  It  was  perfectly  lovely  of  Mrs. 
Banks  to  think  of  it;  and  of  you  to  give  them  that 
beautiful  lot  on  the  point.  You  can  see  Hesperides  Vale 
for  miles  and  miles  to  the  lower  gap." 

Bailey  smiled.  "  Mrs.  Banks  said  it  was  a  good  way 
to  use  up  the  lumber  that  was  left  over  from  the  ranch 
house.  And  that  bungalow  certainly  makes  a  great  show- 
ing for  the  town.  It  raised  the  value  of  the  adjoining 
lots.     I  sold  three  before  the  shingles  were  on  the  walls, 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     347 

and   the   people  who  bought   them   thought   they   had   a 
snap." 

"  All  the  same,  it  is  a  lovely  present,"  said  Madame 
Lucile. 

"  There's  the  train,  whistling  up  the  valley,"  said  the 
mayor,  but  he  paused  to  ask,  almost  with  diffidence,  as 
he  turned  to  the  door :  "  Say,  what  do  you  think  of  this 
tie?  " 

"  I  like  it."  She  nodded,  with  a  reassuring  smile. 
"And  it's  a  nice  shade  for  you;  it  brings  out  the  blue 
in  your  eyes." 

The  mayor  laughed  gaily.  "  I  ought  to  wear  it  steady 
after  that,  but  I  am  coming  to  black  ones  with  a  frock 
coat  and  silk  hat.  I  am  going  to  begin  to-morrow,  when 
those  German  scientists,  on  their  way  home  from  the 
Orient,  stop  to  see  Hesperides  Vale." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  you  will  wear  this  nice  business  suit,  un- 
less they  come  late  in  the  afternoon.  It  seems  more  sen- 
sible here  on  the  edge  of  the  desert,  and  even  if  you  are 
the  first  mayor  to  do  it,  I  know,  the  world  over,  there 
isn't  another  as  young." 

Bailey  grew  thoughtful.  "  The  mayor  in  Chicago  al- 
ways wore  a  Prince  Albert.  Why,  that  long  coat  and 
silk  hat  stood  for  the  office.  They  were  the  most  impor- 
tant part  of  him.  But  good-by,"  he  said  hastily,  as  the 
train  whistled  again,  nearer,  "  I'll  call  for  you  at  seven." 
Ten  minutes  later,  the  mayor  stood  on  the  station  plat- 
form shaking  hands  with  Mrs.  Weatherbee.  "  Say,  I  am 
sui-prised,"  he  said.  "  I  often  wondered  what  you  thought 
of  the  vale.  Lighter  told  me  how  you  drove  those  colts 
through  that  day,  and  I  was  disappointed  not  to  hear 
from  you.  You  didn't  let  me  know  you  had  an  invest- 
ment already,  and  it  never  occurred  to  me,  afterwards, 
that  you  were  our  Mrs.  Weatherbee." 

Then,  introductions  being  over,  he  assisted  Miss  Mor- 


348      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

ganstein  into  the  tonneau  with  the  bridal  couple  and 
gave  the  seat  in  front  to  Mrs.  Weatherbee.  He  drove 
very  slowly  up  the  new  thoroughfare,  past  the  Bailey 
building,  where  she  expressed  her  astonishment  at  the 
inviting  window  display  of  the  millinery  store.  He  ex- 
plained that  offices  for  the  Weatherhee  Record  had  been 
reserved  on  the  second  floor,  and  that  in  the  hall,  in  the 
third  story,  the  first  inaugural  ball  was  to  be  given  the 
following  night.  It  had  been  postponed  a  few  days  until 
her  arrival,  and  he  hoped  he  might  have  the  privilege  of 
leading  the  grand  march  with  her.  And,  Mrs.  Weather- 
bee  having  thanked  him,  with  the  pleasure  dancing  in  her 
eyes,  Bailey  pointed  out  the  new  city  hospital,  a  tall, 
airy  structure,  brave  in  fresh  paint,  which  was  equipped 
with  a  resident  physician  and  three  trained  nurses,  in- 
cluding Miss  Purdy,  the  milliner's  sister,  who  was  on  her 
way  from  Washington  to  join  the  force. 

After  that  they  motored  through  the  residence  district, 
and  Mrs.  Weatherbee  expressed  greater  wonder  and  de- 
light at  the  rows  of  thrifty  homes,  each  with  its  breadth 
of  green  lawn  and  budding  shrubbery,  where  hardly  six 
months  ago  had  been  unreclaimed  acres  of  sage.  And  so, 
at  last,  they  came  to  the  city  park,  where  the  road  wound 
smooth  and  firm  between  broad  stretches  of  velvety  green, 
broken  by  beds  of  blossoming  tulips,  nodding  daffodils, 
clumps  of  landscape  foliage  putting  forth  new  leaves. 
Sprinklers,  supplied  by  a  limpid  canal  that  followed  the 
drive,  played  here,  there,  everywhere,  and  under  all  this 
moisture  and  the  warm  rays  of  the  spring  sun,  the  light 
soil  teemed  with  awakening  life.  Then,  finally,  the  car 
skirted  a  low,  broad  mound,  in  which  was  set  the  source 
of  the  viaduct,  a  basin  of  masonry,  brimming  with  water 
crystal  clear  and  fed  by  two  streams  that  gushed  from  a 
pedestal  of  stone  on  the  farther  rim.  "  How  beautiful !  " 
she  exclaimed.     "  How  incredible !     And  there  is  to  be  a 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     349 

statue  to  complete  it.  A  faun,  a  water  nymph,  some  fig- 
ure to  symbolize  the  spirit  of  the  place." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  much  about  the  statue,"  replied 
Bailey,  watching  the  curve  ahead.  "  Mr.  Banks  engaged 
the  sculptor;  some  noted  man  in  the  east.  He  is  carry- 
ing the  responsibility;  it  was  his  idea.  But  it  was  to 
have  been  in  place,  ready  to  be  unveiled  by  the  fifteenth, 
and  there  was  some  delay." 

After  that,  the  mayor  was  silent,  devoting  his  atten- 
tion to  the  speeding  car.  They  left  the  park  and,  tak- 
ing the  river  road,  arrived  presently  at  the  bungalow. 
The  shingles  still  lacked  staining,  the  roof  was  incom- 
plete, but  a  sprinkler  threw  rainbow  mist  over  the  new 
lawn,  which  was  beginning  to  show  shades  of  green.  A 
creeper,  planted  at  the  corner  of  the  veranda,  already  sent 
out  pale,  crinkled  shoots. 

Lucky  Banks  came  beaming  down  the  steps,  and  Anna- 
bel, in  a  crisp  frock  of  royal  blue  taffeta,  stood  smiling 
a  welcome  as  the  automobile  stopped.  Then  Bailey, 
springing  down  to  throw  open  the  door  of  the  tonneau, 
lifted  his  voice  to  say :  "  And  this  —  is  the  home  of  the 
Editor  of  the  Weatherbee  Record  and  Mrs.  Daniels." 

They  did  not  at  once  grasp  his  meaning,  and  the  pros- 
pector made  it  clear  as  they  went  up  to  the  veranda. 
"  The  house  is  a  wedding  present  from  Mrs.  Banks,"  he 
said ;  "  and  Mr.  Bailey,  here,  put  up  the  lot,  so's  I  thought 
this  would  come  in  handy;  it  will  take  quite  a  bunch  of 
furniture." 

There  was  a  silent  moment  while  Geraldine  stood  re- 
garding the  envelope  he  had  put  in  her  hand.  She  was 
looking  her  best  in  a  trim,  tailored  suit  of  gray.  There 
was  a  turquoise  facing  to  the  brim  of  her  smart  gray 
hat,  but  her  only  ornaments  were  a  sorority  pin  fastened 
to  the  lapel  of  her  coat  and  a  gold  button  that  secured 
her  watch  in  the  small  breast  pocket  made  for  it.     At 


350      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

last  she  looked  up,  an  unusual  flush  warmed  her  face,  and 
she  began :  "  It's  perfectly  lovely  of  you  —  we  are  so  sur- 
prised —  we  never  can  thank  you  enough." 

But  Jimmie  turned  away.  He  stood  looking  down  the 
valley  in  the  direction  of  that  place,  not  very  far  off, 
where  his  mother  had  carried  water  up  the  steep  slope 
in  the  burning  desert  sun.  His  forehead  creased;  he 
closed  his  lips  tight  over  a  rising  sob.  Then  Geraldine 
laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Do  you  understand  what 
these  people  have  done  for  us  ? "  she  asked  unconven- 
tionally.    "  Did  you  hear.^  " 

Jimmie  swung  around.  His  glance  met  Annabel's. 
"  I  can't  explain  how  I  feel  about  it,"  he  burst  out,  "  but 
I  know  if  my  mother  could  have  been  here  now,  it  —  this 
—  would  have  paid  her  for  all  —  she  missed.  I  don't  de- 
serve it  —  but  Geraldine  does ;  and  I  pledge  myself  to 
stay  by  the  Weatherbee  Record  as  long  as  you  want  me 
to.     I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  making  good." 

Then  Annabel,  winking  hard,  hastily  led  the  way  over 
the  house;  and,  presently,  when  the  party  returned  to 
the  table  in  the  veranda,  and  the  Japanese  boy  she  had 
brought  from  the  ranch  house  was  successfully  passing 
the  fried  chicken,  she  wanted  to  know  about  the  wed- 
ding. 

"  Yes,  we  tried  to  have  it  quiet,"  responded  Jimmie, 
"  and  we  planned  it  so  the  taxi  would  just  make  our  train ; 
but  the  fellows  caught  on  and  were  waiting  for  us  at  the 
station,  full  force,  with  their  pocketfuls  of  rice  and 
shoes.     They  hardly  let  us  get  aboard." 

"  Gracious ! "  exclaimed  Annabel.  "  You  might  as 
well  have  been  married  in  church.  You'd  have  looked 
pretty  in  a  train  and  veil,"  she  said,  addressing  Geral- 
dine, who  was  seated  on  her  right.  "  Not  but  what  you 
don't  look  nice  in  gray.  And  I  like  your  suit  real  well; 
it's  a  fine  piece  of  goods;  the  kind  to  stand  the  desert 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     351 

dust.  But  I  would  have  liked  to  see  you  in  white,  with 
a  blaze  of  lights  and  decorations  and  a  crowd." 

Geraldine  laughed.  "  We  had  a  nice  little  wedding, 
and  the  young  men  from  the  office  made  up  for  their 
noise.  They  gave  the  porter  a  handsome  case  of  silver 
at  the  last  moment,  to  bring  to  me." 

"  And,"  supplemented  Jimmie,  "  there  was  a  handsome 
silver  tea  service  from  the  chief.  He  told  her  she  had 
been  a  credit  to  the  staff,  and  he  would  find  it  hard  to 
replace  her.  Think  of  that  coming  from  the  head  of  a 
big  daily.  It  makes  me  feel  guilty.  But  she  is  to  have 
full  latitude  in  the  new  paper ;  society,  clubs,  equal  suffrage 
if  she  says  so ;  anything  she  writes  goes  with  the  Weather- 
bee  Record." 

"  If  I  were  you,  I'd  have  that  down  in  writing."  Anna- 
bel looked  from  Daniels  to  the  bride,  and  her  lip  curled 
whimsically.  "  They  all  talk  that  way  at  first,  as  though 
the  earth  turned  round  for  one  woman,  and  the  whole 
crowd  ought  to  stop  to  watch  her  go  by.  He  pretends, 
so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  she  can  stump  the  county  for 
prohibition  or  lead  the  suffragette  parade,  but,  after- 
wards, he  gets  to  taking  the  other  view.  Instead  of 
thanking  his  lucky  stars  the  nicest  girl  in  the  world 
picked  him  out  of  the  bunch,  he  begins  to  think  she  nat- 
urally was  proud  that  the  best  one  wanted  her.  Then,  be- 
fore they've  been  married  two  years,  he  starts  trying  to 
make  her  over  into  some  other  kind  of  a  woman.  Why, 
I  know  one  man  right  here  in  Hesperides  Vale  who  set  to 
making  a  Garden  of  Eden  out  of  a  sandhole  in  the  moun- 
tains, just  because  it  belonged  to  a  certain  girl."  She 
paused  an  instant,  while  her  glance  moved  to  Banks,  and 
the  irony  went  out  of  her  voice.  "  He  could  have  bought 
the  finest  fruit  ranch  in  the  valley,  all  under  irrigation 
and  coming  into  bearing,  for  he  had  the  money,  but  he 
went  to  wasting  it  on  that  piece   of  unreclaimed  sage 


352      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

desert.     And  now  that  he  has  got  it  all  in  shape,  he's 
talking  of  opening  a  big  farm  in  Alaska." 

Banks  laughed  uneasily.  "  The  boys  need  it  up  there," 
he  said  in  his  high  key.  "  Besides,  I  always  get  more 
fun  out  of  making  new  ground  over.  It's  such  mighty 
good  soil  here  in  Hesperides  Vale  things  grow  themselves 
soon's  the  water  is  turned  on.  It  don't  leave  a  man 
enough  to  do.  And  we  could  take  a  little  run  down  to 
the  ranch,  any  time;  we  could  count  on  always  wintering 
here,  my,  yes." 

Annabel  smiled.  "  He  thinks  by  mid-summer  he  can 
take  me  right  into  the  interior,  in  that  cranky  red  car. 
And  I  don't  know  but  what  I  am  ready  to  risk  it;  there 
are  places  I'd  like  to  see  —  where  he  was  caught  his  first 
winter  in  a  blizzard,  and  where  he  picked  up  the  nuggets 
for  my  necklace.  You  remember  it  —  don't  you?  —  Mrs. 
Daniels.  I  wore  it  that  night  in  Seattle  we  went  to  hear 
"  Carmen." 

"  I  certainly  do  remember.  It  was  the  most  wonder- 
ful thing  in  the  theater  that  night,  and  fit  for  an  empress." 
Involuntarily  Geraldine  glanced  down  at  her  own  solitary 
jewel.  It  flashed  a  lovely  blue  light  as  she  moved  her 
hand. 

Annabel  followed  the  glance.  "  Your  ring  is  a  beauty," 
she  said.  "  Not  many  young  men,,  just  starting  in  busi- 
ness for  themselves,  would  have  thought  they  could  afford 
a  diamond  like  that." 

Geraldine  laughed,  flushing  a  little.  "  It  seems  the 
finest  in  the  world  to  me,"  she  replied  almost  shyly.  "  And 
it  ought  to  show  higher  light  and  color  than  any  other; 
the  way  it  was  bought  was  so  splendid." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  way  the  money  was  earned  to  buy 
it  ?  "  inquired  Annabel. 

Geraldine  nodded.  "  It  was  the  price,  exactly,  of  his 
first  magazine  story.     Perhaps  you  read  it.     It  was  pub- 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     353 

lished  in  the  March  issue  of  Sampson's,  and  the  editors 
liked  it  so  well  they  asked  to  see  more  of  his  work." 

Jimmie  looked  at  his  wife  in  mingled  protest  and  sur- 
prise. He  had  believed  she,  as  well  as  himself,  had  wished 
to  have  that  story  quickly  forgotten.  "  It  is  an  Indian 
story,"  she  pursued ;  "  about  a  poor  little  papoose  that 
was  accidentally  killed.  It  was  a  personal  experience  of 
Mr.  Tisdale's." 

Mrs.  Banks  had  not  read  it,  but  the  prospector  pushed 
aside  his  sherbet  glass  and,  laying  his  arms  on  the  table, 
leaned  towards  Geraldine.  "  Was  that  papoose  cached 
under  a  log?  "  he  asked  softly.  "  And  was  its  mother 
berrying  with  a  bunch  of  squaws  up  the  ridge.?  " 

"  Yes,"  smiled  Geraldine.     "  I  see  you  have  read  it." 

"  No,  but  I  heard  a  couple  of  men  size  it  up  aboard  the 
train  coming  from  Scenic  Hot  Springs.  And  once,"  he 
went  on  with  gathering  tenseness,  "  clear  up  the  Tanana, 
I  heard  Dave  and  Hollis  talking  it  over.  My,  yes,  it 
seems  like  I  can  see  them  now;  they  was  the  huskiest, 
cleanest-cut,  openest-faced  team  that  ever  mushed  a  trail. 
It  was  one  of  those  nights  when  the  stars  come  close  and 
friendly,  and  the  camp-fire  blazes  and  crackles  straight 
to  heaven  and  sets  a  man  thinking;  and  Tisdale  started 
it  by  saying  if  he  could  cut  one  record  out  of  his  past 
he  guessed  the  rest  could  bear  daylight.  Then  Dave  told 
him  he  was  ready  to  stand  by  that  one,  too.  And  Hollis 
said  it  was  knowing  that  had  taken  the  edge  off,  but  it 
hadn't  put  the  breath  back  into  that  papoose.  Of  course 
he  never  suspicioned  for  a  minute  the  kid  was  in  the 
road  when  he  jumped 'that  log,  and  the  heart  went  out  of 
him  when  he  picked  it  up  and  saw  what  he  was  respon- 
sible for.  They  had  to  tell  me  the  whole  story,  and  I 
wish  you  could  have  heard  'em.  Dave  smoothing  things 
when  Hollis  got  too  hard  on  himself,  and  Hollis  chipping 
in  again  for  fear  I  wouldn't  get  full  weight  for  Dave's 


354      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

part.  And  the  story  sure  enough  does  hinge  on  him. 
Likely  that's  why  Tisdale  gave  it  to  your  magazine;  to 
show  up  Dave  Weatherbee.  But  those  men  on  the  train 
—  they  had  the  seat  in  front  of  me  so's  I  heard  it  plain  — 
lost  their  bearings.  They  left  out  Dave  and  put  Hollis 
in  a  bad  light.  He  was  '  caught  red-handed  and  never 
was  brought  to  an  honest  trial.'  And  it  was  clear  be- 
sides, being  '  hand  in  glove  with  the  Secretary  of  the  In- 
terior '  he  had  a  '  pull  with  the  Federal  court.'  I  couldn't 
stand  for  it."  The  prospector's  voice  reached  high  pitch, 
his  forehead  creased  in  many  fine  lines,  his  eyes  scintil- 
lated their  blue  glacier  lights,  and  he  added,  striking  the 
table  with  his  clenched  hand,  "  I  up  and  says :  '  It's  all 
a  damn  lie.'  " 

There  was  a  silence.  The  self-possession  and  swiftness 
of  the  Japanese  boy  saved  the  sherbet  glass  and  its 
contents,  but  the  mayor,  who  had  been  interrupted  in  a 
confidential  quotation  of  real  estate  values  to  Miss  Mor- 
ganstein,  sat  staring  at  Banks  in  amazement.  A  spark 
of  admiration  shot  through  the  astonishment  in  Anna- 
bel's eyes  then,  catching  the  little  man's  aggressive  glance, 
she  covered  her  pride  with  her  ironical  smile.  Mrs. 
Weatherbee  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  look  at  Banks. 
Her  inscrutable  face  was  turned  to  the  valley.  She  might 
never  have  heard  of  Hollis  Tisdale  or,  indeed,  of  David. 
But  Elizabeth,  who  had  kept  the  thread  of  both  conver- 
sations, said :  "  You  were  right.  There  was  a  coro- 
ner's inquest  that  vindicated  Mr.  Tisdale  at  the  time." 

"  But,"  explained  Geraldine  courageously,  "  that  was 
left  out  of  the  magazine.  Mr.  Daniels  took  it  all  ac- 
curately, just  as  Mr.  Tisdale  told  it,  word  for  word;  but 
the  story  was  cut  terribly.  Nothing  at  all  was  said  of 
Mr.  Weatherbee's  part.  We  couldn't  understand  that, 
for  with  names  suppressed,  there  could  be  no  motive,  and 
he  was  so  clearly  the  leading  character.     But  magazines 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     355 

have  no  conscience.  It's  anything,  with  the  new  ones  at 
least,  to  catch  the  public  eye,  and  they  stir  more  melo- 
drama into  their  truths  than  the  yellow  journals  do. 
But  Mr.  Daniels  apologized  to  Mr.  Tisdale,  and  explained 
how  he  wasn't  responsible  for  the  editor's  note  or  for 
printing  his  name,  and  he  did  his  best  to  make  it  up  in 
his  report  of  the  disaster  at  Cascade  tunnel.  That  story 
went  into  the  Press  straight  and  has  been  widely 
copied." 

It  was  in  Jimmie's  favor  that  Lucky  Banks  had  read 
the  newspaper  story,  and  also  that  they  had  had  those 
hours  of  intimacy  at  the  west  portal.  "  Well,  likely  you 
ain't  to  blame,"  the  prospector  admitted  finally,  "  but 
there's  people  who  don't  know  Hollis  Tisdale  that  might 
believe  what  the  magazine  says.  And,  if  I  was  you,  I'd 
take  a  little  run  over  to  Washington  or  New  York,  wher- 
ever it  is  —  I'll  put  up  the  money  —  and  locate  that  edi- 
tor.    I'd  make  him  fix  it  right,  my,  yes." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to,"  said  Daniels,  brightening,  "  but 
it's  possible  those  missing  pages  were  lost  on  the  way." 

"  Well,  I'd  find  out,"  persisted  Banks.  "  And  there's 
other  stories  I  got  wind  of  when  I  was  in  Washington, 
D.  C,  and  Seattle,  too,  last  time  I  was  down,  that  ought 
to  be  trailed.  Maybe  it's  just  politics,  but  I  know  for  a 
fact  they  ain't  so." 

The  irony  had  gone  out  of  Annabel's  face.  She  had 
seen  Hollis  Tisdale  but  once,  yet  his  coming  and  going 
had  marked  the  red-letter  day  of  her  life.  Her  heart 
championed  Banks'  fight  for  him.  She  turned  her  dark 
eyes  from  him  to  Daniels. 

"  It's  too  bad  you  tried  to  tell  Hollis  Tisdale's  story 
for  him,"  she  said.  "  Even  if  the  magazine  had  got  it 
all  straight,  it  wouldn't  have  been  the  same  as  getting 
it  first  hand.  It's  like  listening  to  one  of  those  fine 
singers  in  a  phonograph;  you  can  get  the  tune  and  some 


356      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  the  words,  and  maybe  the  voice  pretty  fair,  but  you 
miss  the  man." 

With  this  she  rose.  "  We  are  ready  to  go  out  to  the 
Orchards,  Mr.  Bailey.  Mr.  Banks  and  I  are  going  to 
change  places  with  the  bride  and  groom."  Then  from  her 
silk  bag,  she  brought  forth  a  bunch  of  keys  which  she 
gave  to  Geraldine.  "  Nukui  is  going  to  stay  to  clear 
away,"  she  explained,  "  and  bring  our  car  home.  And 
when  you  have  finished  making  your  plans,  and  want  to 
go  down  to  see  the  newspaper  office,  he  will  show  you  a 
nice  short  cut  through  the  park." 

So  again  the  mayor's  chocolate  six-passenger  car 
threaded  the  park  and  emerged  this  time  on  a  straight, 
broad  thoroughfare  through  Hesperides  Vale.  "  This," 
said  Bailey,  turning  from  the  town,  "  is  the  Alameda. 
They  motor  from  Wenatchee  and  beyond  to  try  it.  It's 
a  pretty  good  road,  but  in  a  year  or  two,  when  these 
shade  trees  come  into  full  leaf,  it  will  be  something  to 
show." 

There  were  tufts  on  most  of  them  now  and  on  the 
young  fruit  trees  that  ran  in  geometrical  designs  on 
either  side,  covering  the  levels  that  last  year  had  been 
o.vergrown  with  sage.  As  these  infant  orchards  dropped 
behind  and  the  Wenatchee  range  loomed  near,  Cerberus 
detached  from  the  other  peaks;  but  it  was  no  longer  a 
tawny  monster  on  guard;  its  contour  was  broken  by 
many  terraces,  luxuriant  with  alfalfa  and  planted  with 
trees. 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  "  there  is  the 
gap.  Then,  this  must  be  the  mountain  —  it  reminded  me 
once  of  a  terrible,  crouching,  wild  beast  —  but  it  has 
changed." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  responded  Banks,  "  she's  looking  tamer 
now.  The  peaches  have  taken  right  hold,  and  those 
fillers   of  strawberries   are  hurrying  on  the  green.     But 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     357 

you  give  'em  three  years  or  maybe  four,  and  take  'em 
in  blossom  time, —  my,  you  won't  know  this  old  moun- 
tain then." 

A  drive,  cross-cutting  the  bold  front,  led  to  the  level 
beneath  the  summit,  where  rose  the  white  walls  and  green 
gables  of  Annabel's  home,  but  they  rounded  the  mountain 
into  the  smaller  vale.  "  This,"  said  the  mayor,  with 
culminating  pride,  "  is  Weatherbee  Orchards.  It  shows 
what  money,  in  the  right  hands,  can  do." 

A  soft  breeze  came  down  over  the  ridge  as  they  as- 
cended; the  flume,  that  followed  the  contour  of  the  road- 
way, gurgled  pleasantly.  Everywhere  along  the  spill- 
ways alfalfa  spread  thriftily,  or  strawberry  plants  sent 
out  new  tendrils.  All  growing  things  were  more  advanced 
in  that  walled  pocket  than  in  the  outer  vale ;  the  arid  gulf 
had  become  a  vast  greenhouse.  Cerberus  no  longer 
menaced.  Even  the  habitation  of  the  goat-woman,  that 
had  been  the  central  distraction  of  the  melancholy  picture, 
was  obliterated.  In  all  that  charming  landscape  there 
was  no  discordant  note  to  break  the  harmony. 

The  car  doubled  the  curve  at  the  top  of  the  bench  and 
ran  smoothly  between  breadths  of  green  lawn,  bordered 
by  nodding  narcissus,  towards  the  house,  which  was  long 
and  low,  with  a  tiled  roof  and  cream-colored  walls  that 
enclosed  a  patio.  A  silence  fell  over  the  company.  As 
they  alighted,  every  one  waited,  looking  expectantly  at 
Beatriz  Weatherbee.  The  music  of  a  fountain  fluted 
from  the  court,  and  she  went  forward,  listening.  Her 
face  was  no  longer  inscrutable;  it  shone  with  a  kind  of 
inner  illumination.  But  when  she  saw  the  slender  column 
of  spray  and  the  sparkKxig  basin,  with  a  few  semi-tropical 
plants  grouped  on  the  curb,  a  cactus,  a  feathery  palm  in 
a  quaint  stone  pot,  she  turned,  and  her  eyes  sought  Eliza- 
beth's. "  It  is  all  like  the  old  hacienda  where  grandfather 
was  bom,  and  mother,  and  " —  her  voice  broke  — "  Only 


358      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

that  had  adobe  walls,"  she  finished.  "  It  is  like  —  coming 
home." 

"  It  is  simply  marvelous,"  replied  Elizabeth,  and  she 
added  abruptly,  looking  at  the  prospector :  "  Mr.  Banks, 
you  are  a  problem  beyond  me." 

"  It  looks  all  right,  doesn't  it.^^  "  the  little  man  beamed. 
"  Likely  it  would  about  suit  Dave.  And  I  was  able  to 
stand  the  investment.  My,  yes,  now  your  brother  has 
bought  out  the  Annabel,  what  I  spent  wouldn't  cut  any 
figure.  But,"  and  his  glance  moved  to  the  woman  who 
had  profited  by  the  venture,  "  I'll  likely  get  my  money 
back." 

Afterwards,  when  the  party  had  inspected  the  reser- 
voirs and  upper  flumes,  Beatriz  found  herself  returning 
to  the  bench  with  Lucky  Banks.  It  was  almost  sunset, 
and  the  far  Chelan  peaks  were  touched  with  Alpine  fire; 
below  them  an  amethyst  mist  filtered  over  the  trans- 
formed vale.  They  had  been  discussing  the  architecture 
of  the  building. 

"I  had  often  gone  over  the  map  of  the  project  with 
David,"  she  said,  "  but  he  must  have  drawn  the  plans  of 
the  house  later,  in  Alaska.  It  was  a  complete  surprise. 
I  wonder  he  remembered  the  old  hacienda  so  accurately; 
he  was  there  only  once  —  when  we  were  on  our  wedding 
journey." 

"  There  were  a  few  measurements  that  had  to  be  looked 
up,"  admitted  Banks ;  "  but  I  took  a  little  run  around 
into  lower  California  last  winter,  on  my  way  home  from 
Washington,  D.  C." 

*'  You  were  there  ?  You  troubled  to  go  all  the  way 
to  the  old  rancheria  for  details  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  It  was  a  mighty  good  grazing  coun- 
try down  there,  but  the  people  who  bought  the  place  were 
making  their  money  out  of  one  of  those  fine  hotels;  it 
was  put  up  alongside  a  bunch  of  hot  springs.     Nobody 


BACK  TO  HESPERIDES  VALE     359 

but  a  couple  of  Mexicans  was  living  in  the  old  house. 
It  was  in  bad  shape." 

"  I  know.  I  know.  If  I  had  been  a  man,  it  would  have 
been  diiferent.  I  should  have  restored  it;  I  should  have 
worked,  fought  to  buy  back  every  acre.  But  you  saw 
old  Jacinta  and  Carlos.?  It  was  recorded  in  the  title 
they  should  be  allowed  to  stay  there  and  have  the  use 
of  the  old  home  garden  as  long  as  they  lived.  My  mother 
insisted  on  that." 

They  had  reached  the  level  and  walked  on  by  the  house 
towards  the  solitary  pine  tree  on  the  rim  of  the  bench. 
After  a  moment  he  said:  "Now  Dave's  project  is  run- 
ning in  good  shape,  there  isn't  much  left  for  me  to  do, 
my,  no,  except  see  the  statue  set  up  in  the  park." 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about  that,  Mr.  Banks ;  we 
passed  the  place  on  the  way  to  the  bungalow.  It  was 
beautiful.  I  presume  you  have  selected  a  woman's  fig- 
ure —  a  lovely  Ceres  or  Aphrodite.?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,"  responded  Banks  a  little  sharply.  "  It's 
a  full-sized  man.  Full-sized  and  some  over,  what  the 
sculptor  who  made  it  calls  heroic ;  and  it's  a  good  like- 
ness of  Dave  Weatherbee." 

They  had  reached  the  pine  tree,  and  she  put  out  her 
hand  to  steady  herself  on  the  bole.  "  I  understand,"  she 
said  slowly.     "  It  was  a  beautiful  —  tribute." 

"  It  looks  pretty  nice,"  corroborated  the  prospector. 
"  There  was  a  mighty  good  photograph  of  Dave  a  young 
fellow  on  a  Yukon  steamer  gave  me  once,  to  go  by.  He 
was  standing  on  a  low  bluff,  with  his  head  up,  looking 
off  like  a  young  elk,  when  the  boat  pulled  out,  and  the 
camera  man  snapped  him.  It  was  the  day  we  quit  the 
partner  lay,  and  I  was  going  down-stream,  and  he  was 
starting  for  the  headwaters  of  the  Susitna.  Tisdale  told 
me  about  a  man  who  had  done  first-class  work  in  New 
York,  and  I  sent  that  picture  with  a  check  for  a  starter 


360      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

on  my  order.  I  wrote  him  the  price  wasn't  cutting  any 
figure  with  me;  what  I  wanted  was  the  best  he  could  do 
and  to  have  it  delivered  by  the  fifteenth  of  March.  And 
he  did;  he  had  it  done  on  time;  and  he  said  it  was  his 
best  work.  It's  waiting  down  in  Weatherbee  now.  Mol- 
lis thought  likely  I  better  leave  it  to  you  whether  to  have 
the  burying  with  the  statue  down  in  the  park,  or  up  here, 
somewhere,  on  Dave's  own  ground." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  asked,  and  her  voice  almost  failed, 
'''  you  have  brought  —  David  —  home  ^  " 

Banks  nodded.  "It  was  cold  for  him  wintering  up 
there  in  the  Alaska  snow." 

"  Oh,  I  know.  I've  thought  about  —  that.  I  should 
have  done  —  as  you  have  —  had  I  been  able." 

After  a  moment  she  said:  "What  is  there  I  can  say 
to  you?  I  did  not  know  there  were  such  men  in  the 
world  until  I  knew  you  and  Hollis  Tisdale.  Of  course 
you  believed,  as  he  did,  that  I  was  necessary  to  round 
out  David's  project.  That  is  why,  when  it  was  success- 
fully completed,  you  forfeited  the  bonus  and  all  the  in- 
vestment. I  may  never  be  able  to  fully  refund  you  but  — 
I  shall  do  my  best.  And  this  other  —  too.  Mr.  Banks, 
was  that  Mr.  Tisdale's  suggestion  ^  Did  he  share  that  — 
expense  —  with  you?  '* 

"  No,  ma'am,  he  let  me  have  that  chance  when  we 
talked  it  over.  I  had  to  get  even  with  him  on  the 
proj  ect." 

"  Even  with  him  on  the  project?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am.  He  let  me  put  up  the  money,  but  it's 
got  to  be  paid  back  out  of  Dave's  half  interest  in  the 
Aurora  mine.  And  likely,  likely,  that's  what  Dave  Weath- 
erbee would  have  wanted  done." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    JUNIOR   DEFENDANT 

IT  was  following  a  recess  during  the  third  afternoon  of 
the  trial;  a  jury  had  at  last  been  impanelled,  the 
attorney  for  the  prosecution  and  the  leading  lawyer  for 
the  defense  had  measured  swords,  when  Stuart  Foster, 
the  junior  defendant  in  the  "  Conspiracy  to  Defraud  the 
Government,"  was  called  to  the  stand.  Frederic  Mor- 
ganstein,  the  head  of  the  Prince  William  Development 
Company,  straightened  in  his  seat  beside  the  vacated 
chair.  He  was  sleekly  groomed,  and  his  folded,  pinkish 
white  hands  suggested  a  good  child's ;  his  blank  face  as- 
sumed an  expression  of  mildly  protesting  innocence.  But 
the  man  who  stepped  from  his  shadow  into  the  strong 
light  of  the  south  windows  was  plainly  harassed  and  worn. 
His  boyishness  was  gone;  he  seemed  to  have  aged  years 
since  that  evening  in  September  when  he  had  sailed  for 
Alaska.  Tisdale's  great  heart  stirred,  then  his  clear 
mind  began  to  tally  the  rapid  fire  of  questions  and  Fos- 
ter's replies. 

"  When  were  you  first  connected  with  the  Prince  Wil- 
liam Development  Company,  Mr.  Foster?  " 

"  In  the  summer  of  1904." 

"  You  were  then  engaged  in  the  capacity  of  mining 
engineer  at  a  fixed  salary,  were  you  not.''  "  The  prose- 
cuting attorney  had  a  disconcerting  manner  of  arching 
his  brows.  His  mouth,  taken  in  connection  with  his 
strong,  square  jaw,  had  the  effect  of  closing  on  his  ques- 
tions like  a  trap. 


362      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

*'  Yes,"  Foster  answered  briefly,  "  I  was  to  receive  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month  the  first  year,  and  its 
equivalent  in  the  company's  stock." 

"  Did  you  not,  at  the  same  time,  turn  over  to  the  com- 
pany your  interests  in  the  Chugach  Railway  and  Develop- 
ment Company  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Foster. 

"  And  was  not  this  railroad  built  for  the  purpose  of 
opening  certain  coal  lands  in  the  Matanuska  region,  in 
which  you  held  an  interest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  had  entered  a  coal  claim  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres." 

"All  the  law  allowed  to  an  individual;  but,  Mr.  Fos- 
ter, did  you  not  induce  others,  as  many  as  thirty  persons, 
to  locate  adjoining  claims  with  the  idea  that  the  entire 
group  would  come  under  one  control  ?  " 

Foster  colored.  "  It  was  necessaTy  to  co-operate,"  he 
said  slowly,  "  in  order  to  meet  the  enormous  expense  of 
development  and  transportation.  We  wished  to  build  a 
narrow-gauge  road  —  it  was  then  in  course  of  construc- 
tion—  but  the  survey  was  through  the  Chugach  Moun- 
tains, the  most  rugged  in  North  America.  The  cost  of 
moving  material,  after  it  was  shipped  from  the  States, 
was  almost  prohibitive ;  ordinary  labor  commanded  higher 
wages  than  are  paid  skilled  mechanics  here  in  Seattle." 

"  Mr.  Foster,  were  not  those  coal  claims  located  with 
a  purpose  to  dispose  of  them  in  a  group  at  a  profit?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  have  told  you  on  account  of  the  great 
expense  of  development  it  was  necessary  to  work  to- 
gether ;  it  was  also  necessary  that  as  many  claims  as  pos- 
sible should  be  taken." 

The  prosecution,  nodding  affirmatively,  looked  at  the 
jury.  "  The  more  cunning  and  subtle  the  disguise,"  he 
said,  "  the  more  sure  we  may  be  of  the  evasion  of  the  law. 
So,  Mr.  Foster,  you  promoted  an  interest  in  the  fields, 


THE  JUNIOR  DEFENDANT       363 

selected  claims  for  men  who  never  saw  them;  used  their 
power  of  attorney?  " 

"  Yes.  That  was  in  accordance  with  the  law  then  in 
force.  We  paid  for  our  coal  claims,  the  required  ten 
dollars  an  acre.  The  land  office  accepted  our  money, 
eighty  thousand  dollars.  Then  the  President  suspended 
the  law,  and  we  never  received  our  patents.  About  that 
time  the  Chugach  forest  reserve  was  made,  and  we  were 
hampered  by  all  sorts  of  impossible  conditions.  Some  of 
us  were  financially  ruined.  One  of  the  first  locators  spent 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  his  whole  for- 
tune, in  development.  He  opened  his  mine  and  had  sev- 
eral tons  of  coal  carried  by  packers  through  the  moun- 
tains to  the  coast,  to  be  shipped  to  Seattle,  to  be  tested 
on  one  of  the  Government  cruisers.  The  report  was  so 
favorable  it  encouraged  the  rest  of  us  to  stay  with  the 
venture." 

"  Mr.  Foster,"  the  attorney's  voice  took  a  higher,  more 
aggressive  pitch,  "  were  not  many  of  those  claims  entered 
under  names  furnished  by  an  agent  of  the  Morganstein  in- 
terests ?  " 

"  Well,  yes."  Foster  threw  his  head  with  something  of 
his  old  boyish  defiance.  He  was  losing  patience  and  skill. 
"  Mr.  Morganstein  himself  made  a  fiHng,  and  his  father. 
That  is  the  reason  all  our  holdings  are  now  classed  as  the 
Morganstein  group." 

"And,"  pursued  the  lawyer,  "their  entries  were  inci- 
dental with  the  consolidation  of  your  company  with  the 
Prince  William  Development  Company?  " 

Foster  flushed  hotly.  "  The  Prince  William  Develop- 
ment Company  was  in  need  of  coal;  no  enterprise  can  be 
carried  on  without  it  in  Alaska.  And  the  consolidation 
brought  necessary  capital  to  us ;  without  it,  our  railroad 
was  bankrupt.  It  meant  inestimable  benefit  to  the  coun- 
try, to  every  prospector,  miner,  homesteader,  who  must 


364      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

waste  nerve-breaking  weeks  packing  his  outfit  through 
those  bleak  mountains  in  order  to  reach  the  interior.  But, 
before  forty  miles  of  track  was  completed,  the  executive 
withdrew  all  Alaska  coal  lands  from  entry,  and  we  discon- 
tinued construction,  pending  an  Act  of  Congress  to  allow 
our  patents.  The  material  carried  in  there  at  so  great  a 
cost  is  lying  there  still,  rotting  away." 

"Gentlemen,  is  it  not  all  clear  to  you?"  The  prose- 
cuting attorney  flashed  a  glance  of  triumph  over  the  jury. 
"  Do  you  not  see  in  this  Prince  William  Development  Com- 
pany the  long  arm  of  the  octopus  that  is  strangling 
Alaska?  That  has  reached  out  its  tentacles  everywhere, 
for  gold  here,  copper  there ;  for  oil,  coal,  timber,  anything 
in  sight?  That,  but  for  the  foresight  of  the  executive 
and  GifFord  Pinchot,  would  possess  most  of  Alaska  to- 
day? " 

The  men  on  the  jury  looked  thoughtful  but  not  alto- 
gether convinced.  One  glanced  at  his  neighbor  with  a 
covert  smile.  This  man,  whom  the  Government  had  se- 
lected to  prosecute  the  coal  fraud  cases  was  undeniably 
able,  often  brilliant,  but  his  statements  showed  he  had 
brought  his  ideas  of  Alaska  from  the  Atlantic  coast;  to 
him,  standing  in  the  Seattle  courtroom,  our  outlying  pos- 
session was  still  as  remote.  As  his  glance  moved  to  the 
ranks  of  outside  listeners,  who  overflowed  the  seats  and 
crowded  the  aisles  to  the  doors,  he  must  have  been  con- 
scious that  the  sentiment  he  had  expressed  was  at  least  un- 
popular in  the  northwest.  Faces  that  had  been  merely  in- 
terested or  curious  grew  suddenly  lowering.  The  atmos- 
phere of  the  place  seemed  surcharged. 

The  following  morning  Morganstein  took  the  stand. 
Though  in  small  matters  that  touched  his  personal  com- 
fort he  was  arrogantly  irritable,  under  the  cross-examina- 
tion that  assailed  his  commercial  methods  he  proved  suave 
and  non-committal.     As  the  day  passed,  the  prosecutor's 


THE  JUNIOR  DEFENDANT       365 

insinuations  grew  more  open  and  vindictive.  Judge  Fever- 
sham  sprang  to  his  feet  repeatedly  to  challenge  his  accusa- 
tions, and  twice  the  Court  calmed  the  Government's  at- 
torney with  a  reprimand.  The  atmosphere  of  the  room 
seemed  to  seethe  hatred,  malice,  and  all  uncharitableness. 
Finally,  during  the  afternoon  session,  Foster  was  recalled. 

Through  it  all  Tisdale  wa.ited,  listening  to  everything, 
separating,  weighing  each  point  presented.  It  was  begin- 
ning to  look  serious  for  Foster.  Clearly,  in  his  deter- 
mination to  win  his  suit,  the  prosecution  was  losing  sight 
of  the  simple  justice  the  Government  desired.  And  a  man 
less  dramatic,  less  choleric,  with  less  of  a  reputation  for 
political  intrigue  than  Miles  Feversham  might  better  have 
defended  Stuart  Foster.  Foster  was  so  frank,  so  honest, 
so  eager  to  make  the  Alaska  situation  understood.  And 
it  was  not  an  isolated  case ;  there  were  hundreds  of  young 
men,  who,  like  him,  had  cast  their  fortunes  with  that  new 
and  growing  country,  to  find  themselves,  after  years  of 
hardship  and  privation  of  which  the  outside  world  had  no 
conception,  bound  hand  and  foot  in  an  intricate  tangle  of 
the  Government's  red  tape. 

The  evening  of  the  fourth  day  the  attorney  for  the 
prosecution  surprised  Tisdale  at  his  rooms.  "  Thank 
you,"  he  said,  when  Hollis  offered  his  armchair,  "  but  those 
windows  open  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven  are  a  little 
imprudent  to  a  man  who  lives  by  his  voice.  Pretty, 
though,  isn't  it?  "  He  paused  a  moment  to  look  down  on 
the  harbor  lights  and  the  chains  of  electric  globes  stretch- 
ing off  to  Queen  Anne  hill  and  far  and  away  to  Magnolia 
bluff,  then  seated  himself  between  the  screen  and  the  table 
that  held  the  shaded  reading  lamp.  "  Has  it  occurred  to 
you,  Mr.  Tisdale,"  he  asked,  "  that  a  question  may  be 
raised  as  to  the  legality  of  your  testimony  in  these  coal 
cases  ?  " 

"  No."     Hollis  remained  standing.     He  looked  at  his 


366       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

visitor  in  surprise.  "  Please  make  that  clear,  Mr.  Brom- 
ley," he  said. 

The  attorney  smiled.  "  This  is  a  trial  case,"  he  began. 
**A  dozen  others  hinge  on  it.  I  was  warned  to  be  pre- 
pared for  anything;  so,  when  my  attention  was  called  to 
that  article  in  Sampson's  Magazine,  my  suspicions  were  in- 
stantly awake.  It  looked  much  like  blackmail  and,  in  con- 
nection with  another  story  I  heard  in  circulation  at  Wash- 
ington, seemed  a  systematic  preparation  to  attack  the 
Government's  witness.  Possibly  you  do  not  know  it  was 
Mr.  Jerold,  your  legal  adviser  and  my  personal  friend,  who 
put  me  in  touch  with  the  magazine.  You  had  wired  him 
to  find  out  certain  facts,  but  he  was  unable  to  go  to  New 
York  at  the  time  and,  knowing  I  was  there  for  the  week, 
he  got  into  communication  with  me  by  telephone  and  asked 
me  to  look  the  matter  up.  The  publishers,  fearing  a  libel 
suit  which  would  ruin  them,  were  very  obliging.  They  al- 
lowed me  to  see  not  only  the  original  manuscript,  but  Mrs. 
Feversham's  letter,  which  I  took  the  trouble  to  copy." 

"  Mrs.  Feversham's  letter?  "  Tisdale  exclaimed.  "  Do 
you  mean  it  was  Mrs.  Feversham  who  was  responsible  for 
that  story.?" 

"  As  it  was  published,  yes.  But  Daniels  was  not  a  pen 
name.  There  really  was  such  a  writer  —  I  have  taken 
the  trouble  to  find  that  out  since  I  arrived  in  Seattle.  He 
was  on  the  staff  of  the  Press  and  wrote  a  very  creditable 
account  of  the  catastrophe  on  the  Great  Northern  rail- 
road, in  which  glowing  tribute  was  given  you.  But  since 
then,  and  this  is  what  makes  the  situation  so  questionable, 
he  has  left  the  paper  and  dropped  completely  out  of 
sight." 

Tisdale  drew  forward  his  chair  and  settled  himself  com- 
fortably. "  There  is  no  need  to  worry  about  Jimmie 
Daniels,"  he  said ;  "  he  is  all  right.  I  saw  him  at  Cascade 
tunnel ;  he  told  me  he  was  about  to  be  married  and  go  to 


THE  JUNIOR  DEFENDANT       367 

the  Wenatchee  country  to  conduct  a  paper  of  his  own. 
It's  too  bad  there  wasn't  another  reporter  up  there  to  tell 
about  him.  He  worked  like  a  Trojan,  and  it  was  a  place 
to  try  a  man's  mettle.  Afterwards,  before  he  left,  he 
came  to  me  and  introduced  himself.  He  had  been  aboard 
the  yacht  that  day  I  told  the  story.  He  had  taken  it 
down  in  his  notebook  behind  an  awning.  He  told  me  one 
of  the  ladies  on  board  —  he  did  not  mention  her  name  — 
who  read  his  copy  later,  offered  to  dispose  of  it  for  him." 

"  So,"  said  the  lawyer  slowly,  "  you  did  tell  the  story ; 
there  was  a  papoose;  the  unfortunate  incident  really  oc- 
curred." 

"  Yes,"  responded  Tisdale,  "  it  happened  in  a  canyon 
of  those  mountains  across  the  Sound.  You  can  barely 
make  out  their  outline  to-night;  but  watch  for  them  at 
sunrise;  it's  worth  waiting  for."  Then,  after  a  moment, 
he  said,  "  I  told  the  story  to  show  the  caliber  of  Weather- 
bee,  the  man  who  put  himself  in  my  place  when  the  Indians 
came  to  our  camp,  looking  for  me ;  but,  in  editing,  all  men- 
tion of  him  was  cut  out.  Daniels  couldn't  understand 
that.  He  said  the  manuscript  was  long,  but  if  it  was 
necessary  to  abridge  in  making  up  the  magazine,  why  had 
they  thrown  out  the  finest  part  of  the  story?  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  the  attorney  thoughtfully,  "  wasn't 
Weatherbee  the  name  of  the  man  you  grub-staked  in 
Alaska,  and  who  discovered  the  Aurora  mine  ?  " 

Tisdale  bowed,  then  added,  with  the  vibration  playing 
softly  in  his  voice ;  "  And  the  name  of  the  bravest  and 
noblest  man  that  ever  fought  the  unequal  fight  of  the 
north." 

"  Which  proves  the  story  was  not  published  to  exploit 
a  hero,"  commented  Bromley.  "  But  now,"  he  went  on 
brusquely,  "  we  have  arrived  at  the  other  story.  Do  you 
know,  Mr.  Tisdale,  it  is  being  said  in  Washington,  and, 
too,  I  have  heard  it  here  in  Seattle,  that  though  your  own 


368       THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

half  interest  in  the  Aurora  mine,  acquired  through  the 
grub-stake  you  furnished  Weatherbee,  will  make  you  a 
millionaire  at  least,  you  are  withholding  the  widow's 
share." 

This  time  Tisdale  did  not  express  surprise.  "  I  have 
had  that  suggested  to  me,"  he  answered  quietly.  "  But 
the  stories  of  the  Aurora  are  very  much  inflated.  It  is  a 
comparatively  new  mine,  and  though  it  promises  to  be  one 
of  the  great  discoveries,  the  expense  of  operating  so  far 
has  exceeded  the  output.  Heavy  machinery  has  been 
transported  and  installed,  and  Mrs.  Weatherbee  could  not 
have  met  any  part  of  these  payments.  In  all  probability 
she  would  have  immediately  disposed  of  an  interest  at  a 
small  price  and  so  handicapped  me  with  a  partner  with  his 
own  ideas  of  development.  David  Weatherbee  paid  for 
the  Aurora  with  his  life,  and  I  have  pledged  myself  to 
carry  out  his  plans.  But,  Mr.  Bromley,  do  not  trouble 
about  that  last  half  interest.  I  bought  it:  the  transfer 
was  regularly  recorded;  Mr.  Jerold  has  assured  me  it  is 
legally  mine." 

"  I  know  what  Mr.  Jerold  thinks,"  replied  the  attorney. 
"  It  nettled  him  to  hear  me  repeat  that  story.  '  Why,  it's 
incredible,'  "  he  said.  "  '  There  are  documents  I  drew  up 
last  fall  that  refute  it  completely.'  "  Mr.  Bromley  paused, 
then  went  on  slowly :  "  Last  fall  you  were  in  a  hospital, 
Mr.  Tisdale,  beginning  a  long,  all  but  hopeless  fight  for 
your  life,  and  it  was  natural  you  should  have  called  in  Mr. 
Jerold  to  settle  your  affairs.  I  inferred  from  his  remark 
that  you  had  remembered  Mrs.  Weatherbee,  at  least,  in 
your  will."  He  halted  again,  then  added  still  more  de- 
liberately :  "  If  I  am  right,  I  should  like  to  be  prepared, 
in  case  of  emergency,  to  read  such  a  clause  in  court." 

Tisdale  was  silent.  He  rose  and  turned  to  the  west 
windows,  where  he  stood  looking  down  on  the  harbor  lights. 

"  Am  I  right  ?  "  persisted  the  attorney. 


THE  JUNIOR  DEFENDANT       369 

Hollis  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  swung 
around.  He  stood  with  his  chin  lowered,  looking  at  the 
lawyer  with  his  upward  glance  from  under  slightly  frown- 
ing brows.  "  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  suppose  you  are. 
And  suppose  I  refuse  to  have  my  private  papers  read  in 
open  court?  " 

"  In  that  case,"  answered  Mr.  Bromley,  rising,  "  I  must 
telegraph  to  Washington  for  one  of  the  Alaska  coal  com- 
mission to  take  your  place.  I  am  sorry.  You  were 
named  to  me  at  the  beginning  as  a  man  who  knew  more 
about  Alaska  coal,  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  Alaska  situation, 
than  any  other  employee  of  the  Government." 

Still,  having  said  this,  Mr.  Bromley  did  not  seem  in  any 
hurry  to  go,  but  stood  holding  his  hat  and  waiting  for  a 
word  from  Tisdale  to  redeem  the  situation.  At  last  it 
came.  "  Is  there  no  other  way,"  he  asked,  "  than  to  drag 
my  private  affairs  into  court  ?  " 

The  attorney  gravely  shook  his  head.  "  You  never  can 
tell  what  a  jury  will  do,"  he  said.  "  Less  than  a  prejudice 
against  a  witness  has  swung  a  decision  sometimes." 

Hollis  said  no  more.  He  went  over  to  his  safe  and  se- 
lected a  package  containing  three  documents  held  together 
by  a  rubber  band.  After  a  hesitating  moment,  he  drew 
out  one,  which  he  returned  to  its  place.  The  others  he 
brought  to  the  attorney,  who  carried  them  to  the  reading 
lamp  to  scan.  One  was  a  deed  to  the  last  half  interest  in 
the  Aurora,  the  one  which  Weatherbee  had  had  recorded, 
and  the  remaining  paper  was,  as  Mr.  Bromley  conjectured, 
Tisdale's  will;  but  it  contained  a  somewhat  disconcerting 
surprise.  However,  the  lawyer  seated  himself  and,  spread- 
ing the  paper  open  on  the  table,  copied  this  clause. 

..."  The  Aurora  mine,  lying  in  an  unsurveyed  region 
of  Alaska,  accessible  from  Seward  by  way  of  Rainy  Pass, 
and  from  the  Iditarod  district  north  by  east,  I  bequeath  to 
Beatriz  Silva  Gonzales  Weatherbee,  to  be  held  for  her  in 


370      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

trust  by  Stuart  Emory  Foster  for  a  period  of  five  years, 
or  until  development,  according  to  David  Weatherbee's 
plans,  shall  have  been  fully  carried  out.  The  profits, 
above  the  cost  of  all  improvements  and  all  operating  ex- 
penses —  which  shall  include  a  superintendent's  salary  of 
four  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  said  Stuart  Emory  Foster 
—  to  be  paid  in  semi-annual  dividends  to  said  Beatriz  Silva 
Gonzales  Weatherbee." 

"  Stuart  Emory  Foster,"  repeated  the  lawyer  medi- 
tatively, putting  away  his  fountain  pen.  "  You  evidently 
have  considerable  confidence  in  his  engineering  skill,  Mr. 
Tisdale." 

"  Yes."  His  voice  mellowed,  but  he  regarded  the  at- 
torney with  the  upward,  watchful  look.  "  I  have  confi- 
dence in  Stuart  Emory  Foster  in  every  way.  He  is  not 
only  one  of  the  most  capable,  reliable  mining  engineers, 
but  also  one  of  the  most  respected  and  most  trusted  men 
in  the  north." 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  Mr.  Bromley  thought- 
fully folded  his  copy  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket-book. 
"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Tisdale,"  he  said  finally,  and  rose  once 
more.  "You  may  not  be  called  for  several  days  but  when 
you  are,  it  is  advisable  that  you  have  the  original  docu- 
ments at  hand.     Good  night." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

TISDALE    OF    ALASKA AND    WASHINGTON,    D.    C. 

IT  was  evident,  after  his  interview  with  HoUis  Tisdale, 
that  Mr.  Bromley  was  in  no  hurry  to  precipitate  the 
side  issue  for  which  he  had  prepared.  Every  one  who 
had  taken  coal  land  in  the  Morganstein  group  had  been  on 
the  witness  stand,  and  many  more  who  had  not  filed  claims 
had  given  testimony,  yet  the  prosecution  held  him  in  re- 
serve. Then  came  a  day  when  Lucky  Banks,  recalled  to 
tell  what  he  knew  about  the  Chugach  trail,  made  some  as- 
tonishing statements.  He  had  traveled  that  route  with  a 
partner  at  the  end  of  a  season  in  the  Copper  River  plateau. 
They  had  expected  to  finish  the  distance  by  the  new  rail- 
road. The  little  man  was  brief  but  graphic.  It  seemed 
to  have  been  a  running  fight  with  storms,  glaciers,  and 
glacial  torrents  to  reach  that  narrow-gauge  track  before 
the  first  real  September  blizzard.  "  But  we  could  have 
stood  it,"  he  concluded  in  his  high  key,  "  my,  yes,  it 
wouldn't  have  amounted  to  much,  if  we  could  have  had 
firewood." 

"  Did  you  not  know  the  fallen  timber  was  at  your  serv- 
ice? "  questioned  Mr.  Bromley,  "  Provided,  of  course,  you 
conformed  to  the  laws  of  the  reserve  in  building  your  fire 
and  in  extinguishing  it  when  you  broke  camp." 

"  There  wasn't  any  fallen  timber,"  responded  Banks 
dryly ;  "  and  likely  we  would  have  took  it  green,  if  there 
had  been  a  tree  in  sight.  It  was  getting  mighty  cold, 
nights,  and  with  the  frost  in  his  wet  clothes,  a  man  needs 
a  warm  supper  to  hearten  him." 


372      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

"What?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bromley  sharply.  "Do  you 
mean  you  saw  no  trees  .^^  Remember  you  were  in  the  Chu- 
gach  forest ;  or  did  you  lose  your  way  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  We  struck  the  Chugach  Railway  just  where 
we  aimed  to,  but  a  mighty  lot  of  the  Chugach  reserve  is 
out  of  timber  line.  That's  why  we  banked  on  Foster's 
new  train  to  hurry  us  through.  But  we  found  she  had 
quit  running.  The  Government  had  got  wind  of  the  scheme 
and  sent  a  bunch  of  rules  and  regulations.  First  came 
a  heavy  tax  for  operating  the  road ;  and  next  was  an  order 
to  put  spark  arresters  on  all  his  engines.  He  only  had 
two  first-class  ones  and  a  couple  of  makeshifts  to  haul  his 
gravel  cars ;  and  his  sparks  would  have  froze,  likely,  where 
they  lit,  but  there  he  was,  tied  up  on  the  edge  of  a  fill  he 
had  counted  on  finishing  up  before  his  crew  went  out  for 
the  winter,  and  the  nearest  spark  arrester  farther  off  than 
Christmas." 

A  ripple  of  amusement  ran  through  the  crowded  room, 
but  little  Banks  stood  waiting  frostily.  When  his  glance 
caught  the  judge's  smile,  his  eyes  scintillated  their  blue 
light.  "  Likely  Foster  would  have  sent  his  order  out  and 
had  those  arresters  shipped  around  Cape  Horn  from  New 
York,"  he  added.  "  They'd  probably  been  in  time  for 
spring  travel;  but  he  opened  another  bunch  of  mail  and 
found  there  wouldn't  be  any  more  sparks.  Washington, 
D.  C,  had  shut  down  his  coal  mine." 

Mr.  Bromley  had  no  further  questions  to  ask.  He 
seemed  preoccupied  and  passed  the  recess  that  followed  the 
prospector's  testimony  in  pacing  the  corridor.  Lucky 
Banks  had  been  suggested  as  an  intelligent  and  honest 
fellow  on  whom  the  Government  might  rely ;  but  his  state- 
ments failed  to  dovetail  with  his  knowledge  of  Alaska 
and  the  case,  and  after  the  intermission  Tisdale  was 
called. 

The  moment  he  was  sworn,  Miles  Feversham  was  on  his 


TISDALE  OF  ALASKA  373 

feet.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  magazine,  in  which  during  the 
recess,  he  had  been  engrossed,  and  his  forefinger  kept  the 
place. 

"  I  object  to  this  witness,"  he  said  sonorously  and 
waited  while  a  stir,  like  a  gust  of  wind  in  a  wood,  swept  the 
courtroom,  and  the  jury  straightened,  alert.  "  I  object, 
not  because  he  defrauded  the  widow  of  David  Weatherbee 
out  of  her  half  interest  in  the  Aurora  mine,  though,  gentle- 
men, you  know  this  to  be  an  open  fact,  but  for  the  reason 
that  he  is  a  criminal,  self-confessed,  who  should  be  serv- 
ing a  prison  sentence,  and  a  criminal's  testimony  is  not  al- 
lowable in  a  United  States  court." 

Before  he  finished  speaking,  or  the  Court  had  recovered 
from  the  shock,  Mr.  Bromley  had  taken  a  bundle  of  papers 
from  his  pocket  and  stepped  close  to  the  jury  box. 

**  This  is  an  infamous  fabrication,"  he  exclaimed.  "  It 
was  calculated  to  surprise  us,  but  it  finds  us  prepared.  In 
ten  minutes  we  shall  prove  it  was  planned  six  months  ago 
to  defame  the  character  of  the  Government's  witness  at 
this  trial.  I  have  here,  gentlemen,  a  copy  of  the  Alaska 
record  showing  the  transfer  of  David  Weatherbee's  inter- 
est in  the  Aurora  mine  to  Hollis  Tisdale ;  it  bears  the  sig- 
nature of  his  wife.  But  this  extract  from  Mr.  Tisdale's 
will,  which  was  drawn  shortly  after  his  return  from 
Alaska,  last  year,  and  while  he  was  dangerously  ill  in 
Washington,  proves  how  far  it  was  from  his  intention  to 
defraud  the  widow  of  David  Weatherbee."  Here  Mr. 
Bromley  read  the  clause. 

Tisdale,  standing  at  ease,  with  his  hand  resting  on  his 
chair,  glanced  from  the  attorney  to  Foster.  No  mask 
covered  his  transparent  face;  the  dark  circles  under  his 
fine,  expressive  eyes  betrayed  how  nearly  threadbare  his 
hope  was  worn.  Then,  suddenly,  in  the  moment  he  met 
Tisdale's  look,  wonder,  swift  intelligence,  contrition,  and 
the  gratitude  of  his  young,  sorely  tried  spirit  flashed  from 


874      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

his  countenance.  To  Hollis  it  became  an  illuminated 
scroll. 

"  As  to  the  main  charge,"  resumed  Mr.  Bromley,  "  that 
is  ridiculous.  It  is  based  on  an  unfortunate  accident  to 
an  Indian  child  years  ago.  The  distorted  yam  was  pub- 
lished in  a  late  issue  of  a  sensational  magazine.  No  doubt 
most  of  you  ^ave  read  it,  since  it  was  widely  circulated. 

Different isn't  it  ?  —  from  that  other  story  of  Mr.  Tis- 

dale  which  came  down  from  Cascade  tunnel.  Gentlemen, 
I  have  the  letter  that  was  enclosed  with  the  manuscript 
that  was  submitted  to  Sampson*s  Magazine,  It  was  not 
written  by  the  author,  James  Daniels,  but  by  a  lady,  who 
had  offered  to  dispose  of  the  material  for  him,  and  who, 
without  his  knowledge,  substituted  a  revised  copy." 

Miles  Feversham  had  subsided,  dumbfounded,  into  his 
chair;  his  self-sufficiency  had  deserted  him;  for  a  moment 
the  purple  color  surged  in  his  face;  his  chagrin  over- 
whelmed him.  But  Marcia,  seated  in  the  front  row  out- 
side the  bar,  showed  no  confusion.  Her  brilliant,  compel- 
ling eyes  were  on  her  husband.  It  was  as  though  she 
wished  to  reinforce  him,  and  at  the  same  time  convey  some 
urgent,  vital  thought.  He  glanced  around  and,  reading 
the  look,  started  again  to  his  feet.  He  began  to  retract 
his  denunciation.  It  was  evident  he  had  been  misinformed ; 
he  offered  his  apologies  to  the  witness  and  asked  that  the 
case  be  resumed.  But  the  prosecuting  attorney,  disre- 
garding him,  continued  to  explain.  "  In  the  Daniels' 
manuscript,  gentlemen,  a  coroner's  inquest  exonerated  the 
man  who  was  responsible  for  the  death  of  the  papoose; 
this  the  magazine  suppressed.  I  am  able  to  offer  in  evi- 
dence James  Daniels'  affidavit." 

Then,  while  the  jury  gathered  these  varying  ideas  in 
fragments.  Lucky  Banks'  treble  rose.  "  Let's  hear  what 
the  lady  wrote."  And  some  one  at  the  back  of  the  court- 
room said  in  a  deep  voice :     "  Read  the  lady's  letter." 


TISDALE  OF  ALASKA  375 

It  seemed  inevitable.  Mr.  Bromley  had  separated  a  let- 
ter from  the  bundle  of  papers.  Involuntarily  Marcia 
started  up.  But  the  knocking  of  the  gavel,  sounding 
smartly,  insistently,  above  the  confusion,  brought  unex- 
pected deliverance. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  to  further  delay  this  Court  with  this 
issue,"  announced  the  judge.  "  The  case  before  the  jury 
already  has  dragged  through  nearly  four  weeks,  and  it 
should  be  conducted  as  expeditiously  as  possible  to  a  close. 
Mr.  Bromley,  the  witness  is  sustained." 

Marcia  settled  back  in  her  place ;  Miles  Feversham,  like 
a  man  who  has  slipped  on  the  edge  of  a  chasm,  sat  a  mo- 
ment longer,  gripping  the  arms  of  his  chair;  then  his 
ahifting  look  caught  Frederic's  wide-eyed  gaze  of  uncom- 
prehending innocence,  and  he  weakly  smiled. 

"  Mr.  Tisdale,"  began  the  prosecution,  putting  aside 
his  papers  and  endeavoring  to  focus  his  mind  again  on 
the  case,  "  you  have  spent  some  years  with  the  Alaska  di- 
vision of  the  Geological  Survey.'^  " 

"  Every  open  season  and  some  of  the  winters  for  a  period 
of  ten  years,  with  the  exception  of  three  which  I  also  spent 
in  Alaska." 

"  And  you  are  particularly  familiar  with  the  locality  in- 
cluded in  the  Chugach  forest  reserve,  I  understand,  Mr. 
Tisdale.  Tell  us  a  little  about  it.  It  contains  vast 
reaches  of  valuable  and  marketable  timber,  does  it  not  ?  " 

The  genial  lines  crinkled  lightly  in  Tisdale's  face. 
*'  The  Chugach  forest  contains  some  marketable  timber  on 
the  lower  Pacific  slopes,"  he  replied,  "  where  there  is  ex- 
cessive precipitation  and  the  influence  of  the  warm  Japan 
current,  but  along  the  streams  on  the  other  side  of  the 
divide  there  are  only  occasional  growths  of  scrubby  spruce, 
hardly  suitable  for  telegraph  poles  or  even  railroad  ties." 
He  paused  an  instant  then  went  on  mellowly :  *'  Giff  ord 
Pinchot  was  thousands  of  miles  away;  he  never  had  seen 


876      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Alaska,  when  he  suggested  that  the  Executive  set  aside  the 
Chugach  forest  reserve.  No  doubt  he  believed  there  was 
valuable  timber  on  those  lofty  peaks  and  glaciers,  but  I 
don't  know  how  he  first  heard  of  a  Chugach  forest,  unless  " 

—  he  halted  again  and  looked  at  the  jury,  while  the  humor 
deepened  in  his  voice  — "  those  Pennsylvania  contractors, 
who  were  shipping  coal  around  Cape  Horn  to  supply  the 
Pacific  navy,  took  the  chance  of  there  being  trees  in  those 
mountains  and  interested  the  Government  in  saving  the 
timber  —  to  conserve  the  coal." 

A  ripple  of  laughter  passed  over  the  jury  and  on  through 
the  courtroom.  Even  the  presiding  judge  smiled,  and  Mr. 
Bromley  hurried  to  say :  "  Tell  us  something  about  that 
Alaska  coal,  Mr.  Tisdale.     You  have  found  vast  bodies 

—  have  you  not?  —  of  a  very  high  grade;  to  compare 
favorably  with  Pennsylvania  coal." 

"  The  Geodetic  Survey  estimates  there  are  over  eight 
millions  of  acres  of  coal  land  already  known  in  Alaska,"  re- 
plied HoUis  statistically.  "  More  than  is  contained  in  all 
Pennsylvania,  West  Virginia,  and  Ohio  combined.  It  is  of 
all  grades.  The  Bonnifield  near  Fairbanks,  far  in  the 
interior,  is  the  largest  field  yet  discovered,  and  in  one 
hundred  and  twenty-two  square  miles  of  it  that  have  been 
surveyed,  there  are  about  ten  billions  of  tons.  Cross  sec- 
tions show  veins  two  hundred  and  thirty-one  feet  thick. 
This  coal  is  lignite." 

"  How  about  the  Matanuska  fields  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Brom- 
ley. 

**  The  Matanuska  cover  sixty-five  thousand  acres ;  the 
coal  is  a  high  grade  bituminous,  fit  for  steam  and  coking 
purposes.  There  are  also  some  veins  of  anthracite.  I 
consider  the  Matanuska  the  best  and  most  important  coal 
yet  discovered  in  Alaska,  and  with  the  Bering  coal,  which 
is  similar  though  more  broken,  these  fields  should  supply 
the  United  States  for  centuries  to  come." 


TISDALE  OF  ALASKA  377 

Mr.  Bromley  looked  at  the  jury.     His  smile  said: 

"You  heard  that,  gentlemen?"  Then,  his  glance  re- 
turning to  the  witness : 

**  Why  the  most  important  ?  "  he  asked. 

*'  Because  all  development,  all  industry,  in  the  north  de- 
pends on  the  opening  up  of  such  a  body  of  coal.  And 
these  fields  are  the  most  accessible  to  the  coast.  A  few 
hundreds  of  miles  of  railroad,  the  extension  of  one  or  two 
of  the  embryo  lines  on  which  construction  has  been  sus- 
pended, would  make  the  coal  available  on  Prince  William 
Sound.  Used  by  the  Pacific  Navy,  it  would  save  the  Gov- 
ernment a  million  dollars  a  year  on  transportation." 

The  prosecuting  attorney  looked  at  the  jury  again  in 
triumph.  "  And  that,  gentlemen,  is  why  the  Prince 
William  Development  Company  was  so  ready  to  finance 
one  of  those  embryo  railroads;  why  those  Matanuska 
coal  claims  were  located  by  the  syndicate's  stenographers, 
bookkeepers,  any  employee  down  here  in  their  Seattle  of- 
fices. Mr.  Tisdale,  if  those  patents  had  been  allowed  and 
the  claims  had  been  turned  over  to  the  company,  would  it 
not  have  given  the  Morganstein  interests  a  monopoly  on 
Alaska  coal?  " 

Tisdale  paused  a  thoughtful  moment.  "  No,  at  leasli 
only  temporarily,  if  at  all.  Out  of  those  eight  millions 
of  acres  of  coal  land  already  discovered  in  Alaska,  not 
more  than  thirty-two  thousand  acres  have  been  staked  — 
only  one  claim,  an  old  and  small  mine  on  the  coast,  has 
been  allowed."  His  glance  moved  slowly  over  the  jury, 
from  face  to  face,  and  he  went  on  evenly :  "  You  can't 
expect  capital  to  invest  without  some  inducement.  The 
Northern  Pacific,  the  first  trans-continental  railroad  in 
the  United  States,  received  enormous  land  grants  along 
the  right  of  way;  but  the  Prince  William  Development 
Company,  which  intends  ultimately  to  bridge  distances  as 
vast,  to  tap  the  unknown  resources  of  the  Alaska  interior, 


378      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

has  not  asked  for  concessions,  beyond  the  privilege  to  de- 
velop such  properties  as  it  may  have  acquired  by  location 
and  purchase.  Surely  the  benefit  that  railroad  would  be 
in  opening  the  country  to  settlement  and  in  the  saving  of 
human  life,  should  more  than  compensate  for  those  few 
hundreds  of  acres  of  the  Government's  coal." 

"  Mr.  Tisdale,"  said  the  attorney  sharply,  "  that,  in  an 
employee  of  the  Government,  is  a  strange  point  of  view." 

Tisdale's  hands  sought  his  pockets ;  he  returned  Mr. 
Bromley's  look  with  his  steady,  upward  gaze  from  under 
slightly  frowning  brows.  "  The  perspective  changes  at 
close  range,"  he  said.  "  The  Government  knows  less  about 
its  great  possession  of  Alaska  than  England  knew  about 
her  American  colonies,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 
The  United  States  had  owned  Alaska  seventeen  years  be- 
fore any  form  of  government  was  established  there;  more 
than  thirty  before  a  criminal  code  was  provided,  and 
thirty-three  years  before  she  was  given  a  suitable  code  of 
civil  laws.  Now,  to-day,  there  are  no  laws  operative  in 
Alaska  under  which  title  may  be  acquired  to  coal  land. 
Alaska  has  yielded  hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars  from  her 
placers,  her  fisheries,  and  furs,  but  the  only  thing  the  Gov- 
ernment ever  did  for  Alaska  was  to  import  reindeer  for  the 
use  of  the  Esquimos." 

Another  ripple  of  laughter  passed  through  the  court- 
room ;  even  the  judge  on  the  bench  smiled.  But  Mr.  Brom- 
ley's face  was  a  study.  He  began  to  fear  the  effect  of 
Tisdale's  astonishing  statements  on  the  jury,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  was  impelled  to  listen.  In  the  moment  he 
hesitated  over  a  question,  Hollis  lifted  his  head  and  said 
mellowly :  "  The  sins  of  Congress  have  not  been  in  com- 
mission but  in  omission.  They  are  under  the  impression, 
far  away  there  in  Washington,  that  Alaska  is  too  bleak, 
too  barren  for  permanent  settlement ;  that  the  white  popu- 
lation is  a  floating  one,  made  up  chiefly  of  freebooters  and 


TISDALE  OF  ALASKA  379 

outlaws.  But  we  know  the  foundations  of  an  empire  have 
been  laid  there;  that,  allowed  the  use  of  the  fuel  Nature 
has  so  bountifully  stored  there  and  granted  a  fair  meas- 
ure of  encouragement  to  transportation,  those  great  in- 
land tundras  would  be  as  populous  as  Sweden;  as  pro- 
gressive as  Germany."  His  glance  moved  to  the  jury ;  all 
the  nobility,  the  fineness,  the  large  humanity  of  the  man 
was  expressed  in  that  moment  in  his  face ;  a  subdued  emo- 
tion pervaded  his  voice.  "  We  know  the  men  who  forged 
a  way  through  that  mighty  bulwark  of  mountains  to  the 
interior  were  brave,  resourceful,  determined  —  they  had  to 
be  —  but,  too,  they  saw  a  broad  horizon ;  they  had  patri- 
otism; if  there  are  any  Americans  left  who  have  inherited 
a  spark  of  the  old  Puritan  spirit,  they  are  the  ones  who 
have  cast  their  fortunes  with  Alaska." 

He  paused  again  briefly,  and  his  eyes  rested  on  Foster. 
"Do  you  know.f^  "  he  resumed,  and  his  glance  returned  to 
the  prosecuting  attorney,  "  when  I  came  out  last  season, 
I  saw  a  ship  at  the  terminus  of  the  new  Copper  River 
and  Northwestern  Railroad  discharging  Australian  coal. 
This  with  the  great  Bering  fields  lying  at  their  side  door ! 
The  people  of  Cordova  wanted  to  see  that  road  finished; 
the  life  of  their  young  seaport  depended  on  it  —  but  — 
that  night  they  threw  the  whole  of  that  cargo  of  foreign 
coal  into  the  waters  of  Prince  William  Sound.  It  is  re- 
ferred to,  now,  as  the  '  Cordova  tea-party.'  " 

In  the  silence  that  held  the  courtroom,  Tisdale  stood 
still  regarding  the  lawyer.  His  expression  was  most  en- 
gaging, a  hint  of  humor  lurked  at  the  corners  of  his 
mouth,  yet  it  seemed  to  veil  a  subtle  meaning.  Then  the 
jury  began  to  laugh  quietly,  with  a  kind  of  seriousness, 
and  again  the  judge  straightened,  checking  a  smile.  It 
was  all  very  disturbing  to  Mr.  Bromley.  Pie  had  been  as- 
sured by  one  high  in  the  administration  that  he  might  rely 
on  Tisdale's   magnetic  personality  and  practical  knowl- 


380      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

edge  as  well  as  his  technical  information  in  prosecuting 
the  case  ;  but  while  he  hesitated  over  the  question  he  wished 
to  ask,  Tisdale  said  mellowly,  no  doubt  to  bridge  the  awk- 
ward pause :  "  The  Copper  River  and  Northwestern 
couldn't  mine  their  coal,  and  they  couldn't  import  any,  so 
they  changed  their  locomotives  to  oil  burners." 

Then  Mr.  Bromley  said  abruptly :  "  This  is  all  very 
interesting,  Mr.  Tisdale,  but  it  is  the  Chugach  Railway 
and  not  the  Copper  River  Northwestern,  that  bears  on  our 
case.     You  have  been  over  that  route,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Tisdale's  voice  quickened.  "  I  used  the  road- 
bed going  to  and  from  the  Matanuska  Valley.  Also  I 
went  over  the  proposed  route  once  with  Mr.  Foster  and  the 
civil  engineers." 

"  Was  it,  in  your  opinion,  a  bona  fide  railroad,  Mr.  Tis- 
dale? Or  simply  a  lure  to  entice  people  to  make  coal  lo- 
cations in  order  that  they  might  be  bought  after  the  pat- 
ents were  issued?  " 

"  It  was  started  in  good  faith."  The  steel  rang,  a  warn- 
ing note,  in  his  voice.  "  The  largest  stockholder  had 
spent  nearly  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  opening  his 
coal  claim.     He  was  in  need  of  immediate  transportation." 

"  This  was  after  the  Chugach  Company  consolidated 
with  the  Prince  William  syndicate,  Mr.  Tisdale?  " 

*'  No,  sir.  It  was  previous  to  that  time.  The  Chugach 
Railway  and  Development  Company  had  chosen  one  of  the 
finest  harbors  in  Alaska  for  a  terminus.  It  was  doubly 
protected  from  the  long  Pacific  swell  by  the  outer,  precipi- 
tous shore  of  Prince  William  Sound.  But  their  greatest 
engineering  problem  met  them  there  at  the  start.  It  was 
necessary  to  cross  a  large  glacier  back  of  the  bay.  There 
was  no  possible  way  to  build  around  it ;  the  only  solution 
was  a  bore  under  the  ice.  The  building  of  such  a  tunnel 
meant  labor  and  great  expense.  And  it  was  not  a  rich 
company ;  it  was  made  up  principally  of  small  stockholders, 


TISDALE  OF  ALASKA  881 

young  men,  just  out  of  college  some  of  them,  who  had 
gone  up  there  with  plenty  of  enthusiasm  and  courage  to 
invest  in  the  enterprise,  but  very  little  money.  They  did 
their  own  assessment  work,  dug  like  any  coal  miners  with 
pick  and  shovel,  cut  and  carried  the  timbers  to  brace  their 
excavations  under  Mr.  Foster's  instructions.  And  when 
construction  commenced  on  the  railroad,  they  came  down 
to  do  their  stunt  at  packing  over  the  glacier  —  grading  be- 
gan from  the  upper  side  —  and  sometimes  they  cut  ties." 

"  And  meantime,"  said  the  attorney  brusquely,  "  Mr. 
Foster,  who  was  responsible  I  believe,  was  trying  to  interest 
other  capital  to  build  the  tunnel." 

"  Yes.  And  meantime,  the  Prince  William  syndicate 
started  a  parallel  railroad  to  the  interior  from  the  next 
harbor  to  the  southwestward.  It  was  difficult  to  interest 
large  capital  with  competition  so  close."  Tisdale  paused ; 
his  glance  moved  from  Mr.  Bromley  to  the  jury,  his  voice 
took  its  minor  note.  "  Stuart  Foster  did  hold  himself  re- 
sponsible to  those  young  fellows.  He  had  known  most  of 
them  personally  in  Seattle;  they  were  a  picked  company 
for  the  venture.  He  had  youth  and  courage  himself,  in 
those  days,  but  he  knew  Alaska  —  he  had  been  there  be- 
fore and  made  good.  He  had  their  confidence.  He  was 
that  kind  of  man ;  one  to  inspire  trust  on  sight,  anywhere." 
Hollis  paused  another  instant,  while  his  eyes  turned  to 
Foster,  and  involuntarily,  one  after  the  other,  the  jury 
followed  his  look.  "  It  was  then,"  he  added,  "  when  other 
capital  failed,  the  Chugach  Company  gave  up  their  sea- 
port and  consolidated  with  the  Prince  William  syndicate." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Tisdale,"  said  the  attorney  for  the 
prosecution.     "  That  is  all." 

Miles  Feversham  had,  as  Frederic  afterward  expressed 
it,  "  caught  his  second  wind."  While  he  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  testimony,  he  made  some  sweeping  revisions 
in  his  notes  for  the  argument  which  he  was  to  open  the 


382      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

following  day.  He  laughed  at,  while  he  congratulated 
himself,  that  the  Government's  star  witness,  of  whom  he 
had  been  so  afraid,  should  have  proved  so  invaluable  to  the 
defense.  And  when  court  adjourned,  and  the  trio  went 
down  the  steps  to  the  street,  he  assured  his  brother-in-law 
there  was  a  chance  for  him  to  escape,  under  Foster's  cloak. 
To  Marcia  he  said  j  ocularly,  though  still  in  an  undertone : 
"  '  Snatched  like  a  brand  from  the  burning  1 '  "  And  he 
added :  "  My  lady,  had  you  consulted  me,  I  should  have 
suggested  the  April  issue.  These  magazines  have  a  bad 
habit  of  arriving  too  soon." 

Frederic,  released  from  the  long  day's  strain,  did  not 
take  this  facetiousness  meekly,  but  Marcia  was  silent.  For 
once  the  "  brightest  Morganstein  "  felt  her  eclipse.  But 
while  they  stood  on  the  curb,  waiting  for  the  limousine  to 
draw  up,  a  newsboy  called :  "  All  about  the  Alaska  bill  1 
Home  Rule  for  Alaska !  " 

The  special  delegate  bought  a  copy,  and  Marcia  drew 
close  to  his  elbow  while  they  scanned  the  message  together. 
It  was  true.  The  bill,  to  which  they  both  had  devoted 
their  energies  that  season  in  Washington,  had  passed. 
Feversham  folded  the  paper  slowly  and  met  his  wife's  bril- 
liant glance.  It  was  as  though  she  telegraphed :  "  Now, 
the  President  must  name  a  governor." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE    OTHER    DOCUMENT 

THE  argument,  which  Miles  Feversham  opened  with  un- 
usual brilliancy  the  following  morning,  was  prolonged 
with  varying  degrees  of  heat  to  the  close  of  another  week; 
then  the  jury,  out  less  than  two  hours,  brought  in  their 
verdict  of  "  Not  Guilty." 

And  that  night,  for  the  first  time  since  Tisdale's  re- 
turn, Foster  climbed  to  the  eyrie  in  the  Alaska  building. 
"  I  came  up  to  thank  you,  Hollis,"  he  began  in  his  straight- 
forward way.  "  It  was  breakers  ahead  when  you  turned 
the  tide.  But,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  "  what  will  the 
President  think  of  your  views  ?  " 

Tisdale  laughed  softly.  "  He  heard  most  of  them  be- 
fore I  left  Washington,  and  this  is  what  he  thinks." 

As  he  spoke,  he  took  a  letter  from  the  table  which  he 
gave  to  Foster.  It  bore  the  official  stamp  and  was  an 
appointment  to  that  position  which  Miles  Feversham  had 
so  confidently  hoped,  with  Marcia's  aid,  to  secure. 

"Well,  that  shows  the  President's  good  judgment!" 
Foster  exclaimed  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  You  are  the 
one  man  broad  enough  to  fit  the  place."  After  a  moment 
he  said,  "  But  it  is  going  to  leave  you  little  time  to  devote 
to  your  own  affairs.     How  about  the  Aurora?  " 

Tisdale  did  not  reply  directly.  He  rose  and  walked  the 
length  of  the  floor.  "  That  depends,"  he  said  and  stopped 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  to  regard  Foster  with  the 
upward,  appraising  look  from  under  knitting  brows.  "  I 
presume,  Stuart,  you  are  through  with  the  syndicate.?  " 


384      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Foster  colored.  "  I  put  in  my  resignation  as  mining 
engineer  of  the  company  shortly  after  I  came  out,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  year." 

"  And  while  you  were  in  the  interior,"  pursued  Tisdale, 
"  you  were  sent  to  the  Aurora  to  make  a  report.  What 
did  you  think  of  the  mine?  " 

"  I  thought  Frederic  Morganstein  would  be  safe  in 
bonding  the  property  if  he  could  interest  you  in  selling; 
it  looked  better  to  me  than  even  Banks'  strike  in  the  Idi- 
tarod.  This  season's  clean-up  should  justify  Weather- 
bee." 

"  You  mean  in  staying  on  at  the  risk  of  his  reason  and 
life?" 

Foster  nodded ;  a  shadow  crossed  his  open  face.  "  I 
mean  everything  but  —  his  neglect  to  make  final  provision 
for  his  wife." 

Tisdale  frowned.  "  There  is  where  you  make  your  mis- 
take. Weatherbee  persisted  as  he  did,  in  the  face  of  de- 
feat, for  her  sake." 

Foster  laughed  mirthlessly.  "  The  proofs  are  other- 
wise. Look  at  things,  once,  from  her  side,"  he  broke 
out.  ''  Think  what  it  means  to  her  to  see  you  realizing, 
from  a  few  hundred  dollars  you  could  easily  spare,  this  big 
fortune.  I  know  you've  been  generous,  but  after  all,  of 
what  benefit  to  her  is  a  bequest  in  your  will,  when  now 
she  has  absolutely  nothing  but  that  hole  in  the  Columbia 
desert?  Face  it,  be  reasonable;  you  always  have  been  in 
every  way  but  this.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  hard, 
knowing  her  now  as  you  do." 

Tisdale  turned  to  the  window.  "  I  have  not  been  as 
hard  as  you  think,"  he  said.  "  But  it  was  necessary,  in 
order  to  carry  out  Weatherbee's  plans,  to  —  do  as  I  did." 

"  That's  the  trouble."  Foster  rose  from  his  chair  and 
went  a  few  steps  nearer  Tisdale.  "  You  are  the  sanest 
man  in  the  world  in  every  way  but  one.     But  you  can't 


THE  OTHER  DOCUMENT         385 

think  straight  when  it  comes  to  Weatherbee.  There  is 
where  the  north  got  its  hold  on  you.  Can't  you  see  it? 
Look  at  it  through  my  eyes,  or  any  one's.  You  did  for 
David  Weatherbee  what  one  man  in  a  thousand  might  have 
done.  And  you've  interested  Lucky  Banks  in  that  recla- 
mation project;  you've  gone  on  yourself  with  his  develop- 
ments at  the  Aurora.  But  there's  one  thing  you've  lost 
sight  of  —  justice  to  Beatriz  Weatherbee.  You've  done 
your  best  for  liim,  but  he  is  dead.  Hollis,  old  man, 
I  tell  you  he  is  dead.  And  she  is  living.  You  have  sent 
her,  the  proudest,  sweetest  woman  on  God's  earth,  to 
brave  out  her  life  in  that  sage-brush  wilderness.  Can't 
you  see  you  owe  something  to  her?  " 

Tisdale  did  not  reply.  But  presently  he  went  over  to 
his  safe  and  took  out  the  two  documents  that  were  fastened 
together.  This  time  it  was  the  will  he  returned  to  its 
place ;  the  other  paper  he  brought  to  Foster.  "  I  am  go- 
ing to  apologize  for  my  estimate  of  Mrs.  Weatherbee  the 
night  you  sailed  north,"  he  said.  "  My  judgment  then, 
before  I  had  seen  her,  was  unfair ;  you  were  right.  But 
I  could  hardly  have  done  differently  in  any  case.  There 
was  danger  that  she  would  dispose  of  a  half  interest  in  the 
Aurora  at  once,  at  any  low  price  Frederic  Morganstein 
might  name.  And  you  know  the  syndicate's  methods.  I 
did  not  want  a  Morganstein  partnership.  But,  later,  at 
the  time  I  had  my  will  drawn,  I  saw  this  way." 

Foster  took  the  document,  but  he  did  not  read  it  im- 
mediately ;  he  stood  looking  at  Tisdale.  "  So  you  too 
were  afraid  of  him.  But  I  knew  nothing  about  Lucky 
Banks'  option.  It  worried  me,  those  endless  nights  up 
there  in  the  Iditarod,  to  think  that  in  her  extremity  she 
might  marry  Frederic  Morganstein.  There  was  a  debt 
that  pressed  her.     Did  you  know  about  that?  " 

"  Yes.     She  called  it  a  '  debt  of  honor.'  " 

"  And  you  believed,  as  I  did,  that  it  was  a  direct  loan 


386      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  cover  personal  expenses.  After  I  came  home,  I  found 
out  she  borrowed  the  money  originally  of  Miss  Morgan- 
stein,  to  endow  a  bed  in  the  children's  hospital.  Think 
of  it!  And  Mrs.  Feversham,  who  took  it  off  her  sister's 
hands,  transferred  the  note  to  Morganstein." 

Tisdale  did  not  say  anything,  but  his  rugged  face  worked 
a  little,  and  he  turned  again  to  look  out  into  the  night. 
Foster  moved  nearer  the  reading-lamp  and  unfolded  the 
document.  It  was  a  deed  conveying,  for  a  consideration 
of  one  dollar,  a  half  interest  in  the  Aurora  mine  to 
Beatriz  Silva  Gonzales  Weatherbee ;  provided  said  half  in- 
terest be  not  sold,  or  parceled,  or  in  any  way  disposed  of 
for  a  period  of  five  years.  Her  share  of  the  profits  above 
operating  expenses  was  to  be  paid  in  semi-annual  divi- 
dends, and,  as  in  the  will,  Stuart  Emory  Foster  was  named 
as  trustee. 

Foster  folded  the  document  slowly.  His  glance  moved 
to  Tisdale,  and  his  eyes  played  every  swift  change  from 
contrition  to  gratitude.  HoUis  turned.  "  I  want  you  to 
take  the  management  of  the  whole  mine,"  he  said  mellowly. 
"  At  a  salary  of  five  thousand  a  year  to  start  with.  And 
as  soon  as  you  wish,  you  may  deliver  this  deed." 

Foster's  lips  trembled  a  little.  "  You've  made  a  mis- 
take," he  said  unsteadily.  Then :  "  Why  don't  you  take 
it  to  her  yourself,  HoUis  ?  "  he  asked. 

Tisdale  was  silent.  He  turned  back  to  the  window,  and 
after  an  interval,  Foster  went  over  and  stood  beside  him, 
looking  down  on  the  harbor  lights.  His  arm  went  up 
around  Tisdale's  shoulder  as  he  said :  "  If  Weatherbee 
could  know  everything  now;  if  he  had  loved  her,  put  her 
first  always,  as  you  believe,  do  you  think  he  would  be  any 
happier  to  see  her  punished  like  this?  " 

Still  Tisdale  was  silent.  Then  Foster's  arm  fell,  and 
he  said  desperately :  "  Can't  you  see,  HoUis  ?  Weather- 
bee was  greater  than  either  of  us.     I  grant  that.     But  the 


THE  OTHER  DOCUMENT         387 

one  thing  in  the  world  you  are  so  sure  he  most  desired  — 
the  lack  of  which  wrecked  his  life  —  the  one  thing  I  have 
tried  for  the  hardest  and  missed  —  has  fallen  to  you.  Go 
and  ask  her  to  sail  to  Alaska  with  you.  You'll  need  her 
up  there  to  carry  the  honors  for  you.  You  prize  her,  you 
love  her, —  you  know  you  do." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE    CALF-BOTJND    NOTEBOOK 

THE  statue  was  great.  So  Tisdale  told  Lucky  Banks, 
that  day  the  prospector  met  him  at  the  station  and 
they  motored  around  through  the  park.  The  sculptor 
himself  had  said  he  must  send  people  to  Weatherbee  when 
they  wanted  to  see  his  best  work.  It  was  plain  his  sub- 
ject had  dominated  him.  He  had  achieved  with  the  free- 
dom of  pose  the  suggestion  of  decision  and  power  that  had 
been  characteristic  of  David  Weatherbee.  Quick  intelli- 
gence spoke  in  the  face,  yet  the  eyes  held  their  expression 
of  seeing  a  far  horizon.  To  Hollis,  coming  suddenly,  as 
he  did,  upon  the  bronze  figure  in  the  Wenatchee  sunshine, 
it  seemed  to  warm  with  a  latent  consciousness.  He  felt 
poignantly  a  sense  of  David's  personality,  as  he  had  known 
him  at  the  crowning  period  of  his  life. 

"  It  suits  me,"  responded  Banks.  "  My,  yes,  it's  about 
as  good  a  likeness  as  we  can  get  of  Dave."  He  put  on  his 
hat,  which  involuntarily  he  had  removed,  and  started  the 
car  on  around  the  curve.  "  But  it's  a  mighty  lot  like 
you.  It  crops  out  most  in  the  eyes,  seeing  things  off 
somewheres,  clear  out  of  sight,  and  the  way  you  carry 
your  size.     You  was  a  team." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  missed  those  services,"  said  Tisdale.  "  I 
meant  to  be  here." 

Banks  nodded.  "  But  it  all  went  off  fine.  She  agreed 
with  me  it  was  the  best  place.  If  I  was  to  go  back  to 
Alaska,  and  she  was  off  somewheres  on  a  trip,  it  would 
be  sure  to  get  taken  care  of  here  in  the  park ;  and,  after- 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK    389 

wards,  when  neither  of  us  can  come  around  to  keep  things 
in  shape  any  more.  And  I  told  her  how  the  ranchers  up 
and  down  the  valley  would  get  to  feeling  acquainted  and 
friendly  with  Dave,  seeing  his  statue  when  they  was  in 
town ;  and  how  the  fruit-buyers  and  the  pickers,  and  maybe 
the  tourists,  coming  and  going,  would  remember  about  him 
and  tell  everybody  they  knew;  and  how  the  school  chil- 
dren would  ask  questions  about  the  statue,  thinking  he  was 
in  the  same  class  with  Lincoln  and  Washington,  and  be 
always  telling  how  he  was  the  first  man  that  looked  ahead 
and  saw  what  water  in  this  valley  could  do." 

"  You  were  right,  Johnny.  The  memory  of  him  will 
live  and  grow  with  this  town  when  the  rest  of  us  are  for- 
gotten." 

They  had  turned  from  the  park  and  went  speeding  up 
between  the  rows  of  new  poplars  along  the  Alameda,  and 
the  prospector's  eyes  moved  over  the  reclaimed  vale,  where 
acres  on  acres  of  young  fruit  trees  in  cultivated  squares 
crowded  out  the  insistent  sage.  "  And  this  town  for  a 
fact  is  bound  to  grow,"  he  said. 

Then  at  last,  when  Cerberus  loomed  near,  and  they  en- 
tered the  gap,  the  little  man's  big  heart  rose  and  his  bleak 
face  glowed,  under  Tisdale's  expressions  of  wonder  and 
approbation  at  the  advance  the  vineyards  and  orchards 
had  made,  so  soon  after  the  consummation  of  the  project. 
Fillers  of  alfalfa  stretched  along  the  spillways  from  the 
main  canal  like  a  green  carpet;  strawberry  plants  were 
blossoming;  grapes  reached  out  pale  tendrils  and  many 
leaves.  But,  at  the  top  of  the  pocket,  where  the  load  be- 
gan to  lift  gently  in  a  double  curve  across  the  front  of  the 
bench,  Hollis  dismissed  Banks  and  his  red  car  and  walked 
the  rest  of  the  way.  On  the  rim  of  the  level,  near  the 
solitary  pine  tree,  he  stopped  to  look  down  on  the  trans- 
formed vale,  and  suddenly,  once  more  he  seemed  to  feel 
David's  presence.     It  was  as  though  he  stood  beside  him 


390      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  saw  all  this  awakening,  this  responding  of  the  desert 
to  his  project.  Almost  it  compensated  —  for  those  four 
days. 

Almost!  Tisdale  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes  and 
turned  to  follow  the  drive  between  the  rows  of  nodding 
narcissus.  The  irony  of  it!  That  Weatherbee  should 
have  lived  to  find  the  Aurora ;  that,  with  many  times  the 
needed  capital  in  sight,  he  should  have  lost.  The  perfume 
of  the  flowers  filled  the  warm  atmosphere;  the  music  of 
running  water  was  everywhere.  As  he  left  the  side  of  the 
flume,  the  silver  note  of  the  fountain  came  to  him  from  the 
patio,  then,  like  a  mirage  between  him  and  the  low  Spanish 
building,  rose  that  miniature  house  he  had  found  in  the 
Alaska  wilderness,  with  the  small  snow  figure  before  it, 
holding  a  bundle  in  her  arms. 

The  vision  passed.  But  that  image  with  the  bundle 
was  the  one  unfinished  problem  in  the  project  he  had  come 
to  solve. 

He  entered  the  court  and  saw  on  his  right  an  open  door 
and,  across  the  wide  room,  Beatriz  Weatherbee.  She  was 
seated  at  a  quaint  secretary  on  which  were  several  bundles 
of  papers,  and  the  familiar  box  that  had  contained  David's 
letters  and  watch.  At  the  moment  Tisdale  discovered  her, 
she  was  absorbed  in  a  photograph  she  held  in  her  hands, 
but  at  the  sound  of  his  step  in  the  patio  she  turned  and 
rose  to  meet  him.  Her  face  was  radiant,  yet  she  looked 
at  him  through  arrested  tears. 

"  I  am  sorry  if  I  startled  you,"  he  said  conventionally. 
"  Banks  brought  me  from  the  station,  but  he  left  me  to 
walk  up  the  bench." 

"  I  should  have  seen  the  red  car  down  the  gap  had  I 
been  at  the  window,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  was  busy  put- 
ting away  papers.  Freight  has  been  moving  slowly  over 
the  Great  Northern,  and  my  secretary  arrived  only  to-day. 
It  bore  the  trip  very  well,  considering  its  age.     It  belonged 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK     391 

to  my  great-grandfather,  Don  Silva  Gonzales.  He 
brought  it  from  Spain,  but  Elizabeth  says  it  might  have 
been  made  for  this  room.  She  is  walking  somewhere  in  the 
direction  of  the  spring." 

While  she  spoke,  she  touched  her  cheeks  and  eyes  swiftly 
with  her  handkerchief  and  led  the  way  to  some  chairs  be- 
tween the  secretary  and  the  great  window  that  overlooked 
the  vale.  Tisdale  did  not  look  at  her  directly ;  he  wished 
to  give  her  time  to  cover  the  emotion  he  had  surprised. 

"  I  should  say  the  room  was  built  for  Don  Silva's  desk," 
he  amended.  "  And  —  do  you  know.?  —  this  view  reminds 
me  of  a  little  picture  of  Granada,  a  water-color  of  my 
mother's,  that  hung  in  my  room  when  I  was  a  boy.  But 
this  pocket  has  changed  some  since  we  first  saw  it;  your 
dragon's  teeth  are  drawn." 

"  Isn't  it  marvelous  how  the  expression  of  the  whole 
mountain  has  altered  ?  "  she  responded.  "  There,  at  the 
end  of  the  pines,  that  looked  like  a  bristling  mane,  the 
green  gables  of  Mrs.  Banks'  home  have  changed  the  con- 
tour. And  the  Chelan  peaks  are  showing  now  beyond  it. 
That  day  the  farther  ones  were  obscured.  But  we  watched 
the  rain  tramp  up  Hesperides  Vale,  you  remember,  and 
swing  off  unexpectedly  to  the  near  summits.  There  was  a 
rainbow,  and  I  said  that  perhaps  somewhere  in  this  valley 
I  should  find  my  pot  of  gold." 

"  I  remember.     And  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  do." 

"  Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  I  have  already  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  Do  you  think  I  have  no  appreciation,  no  grati- 
tude.? Why,  even  had  I  been  too  dull  to  see  it,  Elizabeth 
would  have  told  me  that  this  house  alone,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  project,  must  have  cost  a  good  deal  of  money;  and 
that,  no  matter  how  deeply  Mr.  Banks  may  have  felt  his 
obligation  to  David,  it  was  not  in  reason  he  should  have 
allowed  everything  to  revert  to  me.  But  I  told  him  I 
should  consider  the  investment  as  a  loan,  and  now,  since 


392      THE  KIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

he  has  let  me  know  the  truth  " —  her  voice  fluctuated  softly 
— "  I  shall  make  it  a  debt  of  honor  just  the  same.  Some- 
time —  I  shall  repay  you.'* 

It  was  very  clear  to  Tisdale  that  though  she  saw  the 
property  had  so  greatly  increased  in  value,  and  that  the 
reclamation  movement  in  the  outer  vale  made  the  tract 
readily  salable,  she  no  longer  considered  placing  it  on  the 
market.  "  I  thought  Banks  showed  you  a  way  easily  to 
cancel  that  loan,"  he  began.  But  meeting  her  look,  he 
paused;  his  glance  returned  to  the  window  while  he  felt  in 
his  pocket  for  that  deed  Foster  had  refused  to  bring.  It 
was  going  to  be  more  difficult  than  he  had  foreseen  to  offer 
it  to  her.  "  Madam,"  and  compelling  his  eyes  to  brave 
hers,  he  slightly  frowned,  "  your  share  in  the  Aurora  mine 
should  pay  you  enough  in  dividends  the  next  season  or  two 
to  refund  all  that  has  been  expended  on  this  project." 

"  My  share  in  the  Aurora  mine?  "  she  repeated.  "  But 
I  see,  I  see.  You  have  been  maligned  into  giving  me  the 
interest  David  conveyed  to  you.  Oh,  Mr.  Banks  told  me 
about  that.  How  you  were  attacked  at  the  trial ;  the  use 
that  was  made  of  that  Indian  story  in  the  magazine ;  that 
monstrous  editorial  note." 

Tisdale  smiled.  "  That  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
This  deed  was  drawn  last  year  as  soon  as  I  reached  Wash- 
ington. David  knew  the  value  of  the  Aurora.  That  is 
the  reason  he  risked  another  winter  there,  in  the  face  of  — 
all  —  that  threatened  him.  And  when  he  felt  the  fight 
was  going  against  him,  he  turned  his  interest  over  to  me, 
not  only  as  security  on  the  small  loan  I  advanced  to  him, 
but  because  I  was  his  partner,  and  he  could  trust  me  to 
finish  his  development  work  and  put  the  mine  on  a  paying 
basis.  That  is  accomplished.  There  is  no  reason  now 
that  I  should  not  transfer  his  share  back  to  you." 

He  rose  to  give  her  the  deed,  and  she  took  it  with  re- 
luctance and  glanced  it  over.     "  I  think  it  is  arranged 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK     39S 

about  as  David  would  have  wished,"  he  added.  "  He  had 
confidence  in  Foster." 

She  looked  up.  "  Mr.  Foster  knows  how  I  regard  the 
matter.  I  told  him  I  would  not  accept  an  interest  in  the 
Aurora  mine.  I  said  all  the  gold  in  Alaska  could  not  com- 
pensate you  for  —  what  you  did.  Besides,  I  do  not  be- 
lieve as  you  do,  Mr.  Tisdale.  I  think  David  meant  his 
share  should  be  finally  yours." 

Hollis  was  silent.  He  stood  looking  off  again  over  Cer- 
berus to  the  loftier  Chelan  peaks'.  For  a  moment  she  sat 
regarding  his  broad  back ;  her  lip  trembled  a  little,  and  a 
tenderness,  welling  from  depths  of  compassion,  brimmed 
her  eyes.  *'  You  see  I  cannot  possibly  accept  it,"  she  said, 
and  rose  to  return  the  deed  to  him. 

She  had  forgotten  the  photograph,  which  dropped  from 
her  lap,  and  Tisdale  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  It  was  lying 
face  upward  on  the  floor,  and  he  saw  it  was  the  picture  of 
a  child;  then  involuntarily  he  stopped  to  scan  it,  and  it 
came  over  him  this  small  face,  so  beautifully  molded,  so 
full  of  intelligence  and  charm,  was  a  reproduction  of 
Weatherbee  in  miniature ;  yet  retouched  by  a  blend  of  the 
mother;  her  eyes  under  David's  level  brows.  He  put  the 
picture  in  her  hand  and  an  unspoken  question  flashed 
in  the  look  that  met  hers. 

Since  he  had  not  reheved  her  of  the  deed,  she  laid  it  down 
on  the  secretary  to  take  the  photograph. 

"  This  is  a  picture  of  little  Silva,"  she  said.  *'  It  would 
have  made  a  difference  about  the  share  in  the  Aurora  if  he 
had  lived.  He  must  have  been  provided  for.  David  would 
have  seen  to  that." 

"  There  was  a  child !  "  His  voice  rang  softly  like  a  vi- 
brant string.  "  You  spoke  of  him  that  night  you  were  lost 
above  Scenic  Springs,  but  I  thought  it  was  a  fancy  of  de- 
lirium. It  seemed  incredible  that  David  should  not  have 
told  me  if  he  had  a  son." 


394      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  did  not  answer  directly,  but  nodded  a  little  and 
moved  back  to  her  chair. 

"  He  was  christened  Silva  Falconer,  for  my  mother's 
father  and  mine,"  she  said.  "  They  both  were  greatly 
disappointed  in  not  having  a  son.  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
about  him,  only  it  will  be  a  long  story ;  please  he  seated. 
And  it  would  be  easier  if  you  would  not  look  at  me." 

She  waited  while  he  settled  again  in  his  chair  and  turned 
his  eyes  to  the  blue  mountain  tops.  She  was  still  able  to 
see  his  face.  "  Silva  was  over  six  months  old  when  this 
photograph  was  taken,"  she  began.  "  It  was  lost,  with 
the  letter  to  David  that  enclosed  it,  on  some  terrible 
Alaska  trail.  Afterwards,  when  the  mailbag  was  recov- 
ered and  the  letter  was  returned  to  me  through  the  dead- 
letter  office,  two  years  had  passed,  and  our  little  boy  was 
—  gone.  You  must  understand  I  expected  David  back 
that  first  winter,  and  when  word  came  that  his  expedition 
to  the  interior  had  failed,  and  he  had  arranged  to  stay  in 
the  north  in  order  to  make  an  early  start  in  the  following 
spring,  I  did  not  want  to  spoil  his  plans.  So  I  answered 
as  gayly  as  I  could  and  told  him  it  would  give  me  an  op- 
portunity to  make  a  long  visit  home  to  California.  I  went 
far  south  to  Jacinta  and  Carlos.  They  were  caretakers 
at  the  old  hacienda.  My  mother  had  managed  that,  with 
the  people  who  bought  the  rancheria  and  built  the  hotel 
and  sanitarium.  Jacinta  had  been  her  nurse  and  mine. 
She  was  very  experienced.  But  Silva  was  born  lame.  He 
could  not  use  his  lower  limbs.  A  great  specialist,  who  came 
to  the  hotel,  said  he  might  possibly  recover  under  treat- 
ment, but  if  he  should  not  in  a  year  or  two,  certain  cords 
must  be  cut  to  allow  him  to  sit  in  a  wheel  chair,  and  in  that 
case  I  must  give  up  hope  he  would  ever  walk.  But  —  the 
treatment  was  very  painful  —  Jacinta  could  not  bear  to  — 
torture  him ;  I  could  not  afford  a  trained  nurse ;  so  —  I 
did  everything.     He  was  the  dearest  baby ;  so  lovable.     He 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK     395 

never  was  cross,  but  he  used  to  nestle  his  cheek  in  my  neck 
and  explain  how  it  hurt  and  coax  me  not  to.  Not  in 
words,  but  I  understood  —  every  sound.  And  he  under- 
stood me,  I  know.  '  You  are  going  to  blame  me,  by  and 
by,  if  I  stop,'  I  would  say,  over  and  over ;  '  you  are  going 
to  blame  me  for  bringing  you  into  the  world.'  " 

Her  voice  broke;  her  breast  labored  with  short,  quick 
breaths,  as  though  she  were  climbing  some  sharp  ascent. 
Tisdale  did  not  look  at  her ;  his  face  stirred  and  settled  in 
grim  lines. 

"  I  could  not  write  all  this  about  our  baby,"  she  went 
on,  "  and  I  told  myself  if  the  treatment  failed  it  would  be 
soon  enough  for  David  to  know  of  Silva  when  he  came 
home.  There  was  nothing  he  could  do,  and  to  share  my 
anxiety  might  hamper  him  in  his  work.  He  wrote  glow- 
ingly of  the  new  placer  he  had  discovered,  and  that  was  a 
relief  to  me,  for  I  was  obliged  to  ask  him  to  send  me  a  good 
deal  of  money, —  the  specialist's  account  had  been  so 
large.  I  believed  he  would  start  south  when  the  Alaska 
season  closed,  for  he  had  written  I  might  expect  him  then, 
with  his  pockets  full  of  gold  dust,  and  I  made  my  letters 
entertaining  —  or  tried  to  —  so  he  need  not  feel  any  need 
to  hurry.  At  last,  one  morning  in  the  bath,  when  Silva 
was  five  months  old,  he  moved  his  right  limb  voluntarily. 
I  shall  never  forget.  It  renewed  my  courage  and  my 
faith.  At  the  end  of  another  month  he  moved  the  left  one, 
and  after  that,  gradually,  full  use  came  to  them  both.  It 
was  then,  when  the  paralysis  was  mastered,  I  sent  the  let- 
ter that  was  lost.  At  the  same  time  David  wrote  that  he 
must  spend  a  second  winter  in  Alaska.  But  before  that 
news  reached  me,  my  reaction  set  in.  I  was  so  ill  I  was 
carried,  unconscious,  to  the  sanitarium.  And,  while  I  was 
there,  Silva,  who  had  grown  so  sturdy  and  was  creeping 
everywhere,  followed  his  kitten  into  the  garden,  and  a 
little  later  old  Jacinta  found  him  in  the  arroyo.     There 


396      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

was  only  a  little  water  running  but  —  he  had  fallen  — 
face  down." 

Tisdale  rose.  Meeting  her  look,  the  emotion  that  was 
the  surface  stir  of  shaken  depths  swept  his  face.  Then,  as 
though  to  blot  out  the  recollection,  she  pressed  her  fingers 
to  her  eyes. 

"  And  David  was  thousands  of  miles  away,"  he  said. 
*'  You  braved  that  alone,  like  the  soldier  you  are." 

"  When  I  read  David's  letter,"  she  went  on,  "  he  was 
winter-bound  in  the  interior.  A  reply  could  not  have 
reached  him  until  spring.  And  meantime  Elizabeth  Mor- 
ganstein  came  with  her  mother  to  the  hotel.  We  had  been 
friends  at  boarding-school,  and  she  persuaded  me  to  go 
north  to  Seattle  with  them.  Later,  after  the  AquUa  was 
launched  in  the  spring,  I  was  invited  to  join  the  family  on 
a  cruise  up  the  inside  passage  and  across  the  top  of  the 
Pacific  to  Prince  William  Sound.  It  seemed  so  much  easier 
to  tell  David  everything  than  to  write,  so  —  I  only  let  him 
know  I  intended  to  sail  to  Valdez  with  friends  and  would 
go  on  by  mail  steamer  to  Seward  to  visit  him.  That  had 
been  his  last  post-office  address,  and  I  believed  he  expected 
to  be  in  that  neighborhood  when  the  season  opened.  But 
our  stay  was  lengthened  at  Juneau,  where  we  were  enter- 
tained by  acquaintances  of  Mrs.  Feversham's,  and  we  spent 
a  long  time  around  Taku  glacier  and  the  Muir.  I  missed 
my  steamer  connections,  and  there  was  not  another  boat 
due  within  a  week.  But  the  weather  was  delightful,  and 
Mr.  Morganstein  suggested  taking  me  on  in  the  yacht. 
Then  Mrs.  Feversham  proposed  a  side  trip  along  Columbia 
glacier  and  into  College  fiord.  It  was  all  very  wonderful 
to  me,  and  inspiring;  the  salt  air  had  been  a  restorative 
from  the  start.  And  I  saw  no  reason  to  hurry  the  party. 
David  would  understand.  So,  the  second  mail  steamer 
passed  us,  and  finally,  when  we  reached  Seward,  David  had 
gone  back  to  the  interior.     The  rest  - —  you  know," 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK    397 

"  You  mean,"  said  Tisdale  slowly,  "  you  heard  about 
Mrs.  Barbour." 

She  bowed  affirmatively.  The  color  swept  in  a  wave  to 
her  face ;  her  lashes  fell. 

"  Mrs.  Feversham  heard  about  it,  how  David  had 
brought  her  down  from  the  interior.  I  saw  the  cabin  he 
had  furnished  for  her,  and  she  herself,  sewing  at  the  win- 
dow.    Her  face  was  beautiful." 

There  was  a  silence,  then  Hollis  said :  "  So  you  came 
back  on  the  AquUa  to  Seattle.  But  you  wrote;  you  ex- 
plained about  the  child?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  waited  to  hear  from  David 
first.  I  did  not  know,  then,  that  the  letter  with  Silva's 
picture  was  lost." 

Tisdale  squared  his  shoulders,  looking  off  again  to  the 
snow-peaks  above  Cerberus. 

"  Consider !  "  She  rose  with  an  outward  movement  of 
her  hands,  like  one  groping  in  the  dark  for  a  closed  door. 
"  It  was  a  terrible  mistake,  but  I  did  not  know  David 
as  you  knew  him.  My  father,  who  was  dying,  arranged 
our  marriage.  I  was  very  young  and  practically  without 
money  in  a  big  city ;  .there  was  not  another  relative  in  the 
world  who  cared  what  became  of  me.  And,  in  any  case, 
even  had  I  known  the  meaning  of  love  and  marriage,  in 
that  hour, —  when  I  was  losing  him, —  I  must  have  agreed 
to  anything  he  asked.  We  had  been  everything  to  each 
other;  everything.  But  I've  b^een  a  proud  woman;  sensi- 
tive to  slight.  It  was  in  the  blood  —  both  sides.  And  I 
had  been  taught  early  to  cover  my  feelings.  My  father 
had  adored  my  m.other;  he  used  to  remind  me  she  was 
patrician  to  the  finger-tips,  and  that  I  should  not  wear 
my  heart  on  my  sleeve  if  I  wished  to  be  like  her.  And, 
when  I  visited  my  grandfather,  Don  Silva,  in  the  south, 
he  would  say :  '  Beatriz,  remember  the  blood  of  generations 
of  soldiers  is  bottled  in  you;  carry  yourself  like  the  last 


398      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

Gonzales,  with  some  fortitude.'     So  —  at  Seward  —  I  re- 
membered." 

Her  voice,  while  she  said  this,,  almost  failed,  but  every 
word  reached  Tisdale.  He  felt,,  without  seeing,  the  some- 
thing that  was  appeal  yet  not  appeal,  that  keyed  her 
whole  body  and  shone  like  a  changing  light  and  shade 
in  her  face.  "  I  told  myself  I  would  not  be  sacrificed,  ef- 
faced," she  went  on.  "  It  was  my  individuality  against 
Fate.  Since  little  Silva  was  dead,  my  life  was  my  own  to 
shape  as  I  might.  I  did  not  hear  from  David  for  a  long 
time ;  he  wrote  less  and  less  frequently,  more  briefly  every 
year.  He  never  spoke  of  the  baby,  and  I  believed  he 
must  have  heard  through  some  friend  in  California  of 
Silva's  death.  Nothing  was  left  to  tell.  He  never  spoke 
of  his  home-coming,  and  I  did  not ;  I  dreaded  it  too  much. 
Whenever  the  last  steamers  of  the  season  were  due,  I  nerved 
myself  to  look  the  passenger  lists  over ;  and  when  his  name 
was  missing,  it  was  a  reprieve.  Neither  my  father  nor 
my  grandfather  had  believed  in  divorce;  in  their  eyes 
it  was  disgrace.  It  seemed  right,  for  Silva's  sake,  out  of 
the  rich  placers  David  continued  to  find,  he  should  contrib- 
ute to  my  support.  So  —  I  lived  my  life  —  the  best  I  was 
able.  I  had  many  interests,  and  always  one  morning  of 
each  week  I  spent  among  the  children  at  the  hospital  where 
I  had  endowed  the  Silva  Weatherbee  bed." 

She  paused  so  long  that  Tisdale  turned.  She  seemed 
very  tired.  The  patient  lines,  fine  as  a  thread,  deepened 
perceptibly  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth.  He  hurried  to 
save  her  further  explanation.  "  Foster  told  me,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  a  beautiful  memorial.  Sometime  I  should  like 
to  go  there  with  you.  I  know  you  met  the  first  ex- 
pense of  that  endowment  with  a  loan  from  Miss  Morgan- 
stein,  which  of  course  you  expected  to  cancel  soon, 
when  you  had  found  David  at  Seward.  I  understand 
how,  when  the  note  came  into  her  brother's  hands,  your 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK     399 

only  chance  to  meet  it  at  once  was  through  a  sale  of  this 
land.  And  I  have  thought  since  I  knew  this,  that  even- 
ing aboard  the  AquUa,  when  you  risked  Don  Silva's 
ruby,  it  was  to  make  the  yearly  payment  at  the  hos- 
pital." 

"  Yes,  it  was.  But  the  option  money  from  Mr.  Banks 
made  it  possible  to  meet  all  my  debts.  I  did  not  know 
they  were  only  assumed  —  by  you.  Though,  looking 
back,  I  wonder  I  failed  to  see  the  truth." 

With  this  she  turned  and  took  up  the  photograph  which 
she  had  laid  on  the  secretary,  and  while  her  glance  rested 
on  the  picture,  Tisdale's  regarded  her  face.  "  So,"  he 
said  then,  "  when  the  lost  letter  came  back  to  you,  you 
kept  it;  Weatherbee  never  knew." 

She  looked  up.  "  Yes,  I  kept  it.  By  that  time  I  be- 
lieved little  Silva's  coming  and  going  could  make  little 
difference  to  him." 

"And  you  went  on  believing  all  you  had  heard  at 
Seward  ?  " 

She  bowed  again  affirmatively.  "  Until  you  told  me 
the  true  story  about  Mrs.  Barbour  that  night  on  the 
mountain  road.  I  know  now  that  once  he  must  have 
loved  me,  as  you  believed.  This  house,  which  is  built  so 
nearly  like  the  old  hacienda  where  I  was  born,  must  have 
been  planned  for  me.  But,  afterwards,  when  he  thought 
I  had  failed  him,  when  he  contrasted  me  with  Mrs.  Bar- 
bour, her  devotion  to  her  husband,  it  was  different." 

She  laid  the  photograph  down  again  to  draw  the  tin 
box  forward.  The  letters  were  on  the  desk  with  David's 
watch,  but  there  still  remained  a  calf-bound  notebook, 
such  as  surveyors  use  in  field  work.  It  fitted  snugly 
enough  for  a  false  bottom,  and  she  was  obliged  to  reverse 
the  box  to  remove  it,  prying  slightly  with  a  paper-knife. 
Tisdale's  name  was  lettered  across  the  cover,  and  the  first 
pages  were  written  in  his  clear,  fine  draughtsman's  hand; 


400      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

then  the  characters  changed  to  Weatherbee's.     She  turned 
to  the  last  ones. 

"  This  is  a  book  you  left  among  some  old  magazines  at 
David's  camp,"  she  explained.  "  He  carried  it  with  him 
until  he  discovered  the  Aurora.  He  began  to  use  it  as 
a  sort  of  diary.  Sometime  you  will  want  to  read  it  all, 
but  please  read  these  last  notes  and  this  letter  now." 

She  waited  a  moment,  then  as  he  took  up  the  letter 
and  began  to  unfold  it,  she  turned  and  went  out  into  the 
patio. 

The  letter  was  from  Lilias  Barbour.  It  was  friendly, 
earnest,  full  of  her  child  and  a  gentle  solicitude  for  Weath- 
erbee.  Hollis  read  it  through  twice,  slowly.  The  last 
paragraph  he  went  over  a  third  time.  "  You  are  stay- 
ing too  long  in  that  bleak  country," —  so  it  ran.  "  Come 
back  to  the  States,  at  least  for  a  winter.  If  you  do  not, 
in  the  spring.  Bee  and  I  are  going  to  Alaska  to  learn  the 
reason.     We  owe  it  to  you." 

The  date  was  the  end  of  August,  of  the  same  year  David 
had  written  that  final  letter  which  reached  him  the  fol- 
lowing spring  at  Nome.  But  the  date  on  the  open  pa^e 
of  the  notebook  was  the  fifteenth  of  January  of  that  winter, 
his  last  at  the  Aurora  mine. 

"  Last  night  I  dreamed  of  Beatriz,"  It  began.  *'  I 
thought  I  went  down  to  Seward  to  meet  her,  and  when 
the  steamer  came,  I  saw  her  standing  on  the  forward  deck, 
waving  her  hand  gaily  and  smiling  just  as  she  did  that 
day  I  left  her  at  Seattle  so  long  ago.  Then,  as  the  ship 
came  alongside  the  dock,  and  she  walked  down  the  gang- 
way, and  I  took  her  hand  to  kiss  her,  her  face  suddenly 
changed.  She  was  not  Beatriz ;  she  was  Lilias.  My  God, 
if  it  had  been  Lilias !  Why,  she  would  be  here  now,  she 
and  little  Bee,  filling  this  frozen  cabin  with  summer." 

The  final  date  was  two  months  later. 


THE  CALF-BOUND  NOTEBOOK    401 

"  Still  snowing,"  it  ran.  "  Snowing.  God,  how  I  want 
to  break  away  from  this  hole.  Get  out  somewhere,  where 
men  are  alive  and  doing  things.  Nothing  is  moving  here 
but  the  snow  and  those  two  black  buttes  out  there.  They 
keep  crowding  closer  through  the  smother,  watching  every- 
thing I  do.  I've  warned  them  to  keep  back.  They  must, 
or  I'll  blow  them  off  the  face  of  the  earth.  Oh,  I'll  do 
it,  if  it  takes  all  that's  left  of  the  dynamite.  I  won't 
have  them  threatening  Lilias  when  she  comes.  She  is  com- 
ing; she  said  she  would,  unless  I  went  out  to  the  States. 
And  I  can't  go;  I  haven't  heard  from  Tisdale.  I  never 
have  told  her  about  those  buttes.  It's  unusual ;  she  might 
not  believe  it;  she  would  worry  and  think,  perhaps,  I  am 
growing  like  Barbour.  God!  Suppose  I  am.  Suppose 
she  should  come  up  here  in  this  wilderness  to  find  me  a 
wreck  like  him.  She  must  not  come.  I've  got  to  prevent 
it.  But  I've  offered  my  half  interest  in  the  Aurora  to 
Tisdale.     He  will  take  it.     He  never  failed  me  yet." 

Tisdale  closed  the  book  and  laid  it  down.  Furrows 
seamed  his  face,  changing,  re-forming,  to  the  inner  up- 
heaval. After  awhile,  he  lifted  Weatherbee's  watch  from 
the  desk  and  mechanically  pressed  the  spring.  The  lower 
case  opened,  but  the  picture  he  remembered  was  not  there. 
In  its  place  was  the  face  of  the  other  child,  his  namesake, 
"  Bee." 

Out  in  the  patio  the  pool  rippled  ceaselessly;  the  foun- 
tain threw  its  silver  ribbon  of  spray,  and  Beatriz  waited, 
listening,  with  her  eyes  turned  to  the  room  she  had  left. 
At  last  she  heard  his  step.  It  was  the  tread  of  a  man 
whose  decision  was  made.  She  sank  down  on  the  curb  of 
the  basin  near  one  of  the  palms.  Behind  her  an  open 
door,  creaking  in  the  light  wind,  swung  wide,  and  beyond 
it  the  upper  flume  stretched  back  to  the  natural  reservoir 
where  she  had  been  imprisoned  by  the  fallen  pine  tree. 


402      THE  RIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

His  glance,  as  he  crossed  the  court,  moved  from  her 
through  this  door  and  back  to  her  face. 

"  You  were  right,"  he  said.  "  But  it  would  have  been 
different  if  David  had  known  about  his  child.  His  great 
heart  was  starved." 

She  was  silent.  Her  glance  fell  to  the  fountain.  A  ray 
of  sunshine  slanting  across  it  formed  a  rainbow. 

"  But  my  mistake  was  greater  than  yours,"  he  went  on, 
and  his  voice  struck  its  minor  chord ;  "  I  have  no  excuse  for 
throwing  away  those  four  days,  I  never  can  repair  that, 
but  I  pledge  myself  to  make  you  forget  my  injustice  to 
you." 

At  this  she  rose.  "You  were  not  unjust  —  knowing 
David  as  you  did.  You  taught  me  how  fine,  how  great 
he  was.     Silva  —  would  have  been  proud  of  his  name." 

There  was  another  silence.  Tisdale  looked  off  again 
through  the  open  door  to  the  distant  basin,  and  her  glance 
returned  to  the  fountain.  "  See !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  A 
double  rainbow ! " 

"  Fate  is  with  us  again,"  he  replied.  "  She's  promis- 
ing a  better  fight.  But  there  is  one  debt  more,  soldier," 
and,  catching  her  swift  look,  he  saw  the  sparkles  break 
softly  in  her  eyes.  "  My  ship  sails  for  Alaska  the  tenth ; 
I  shall  stay  indefinitely,  and  I  want  you  to  pay  me  — 
in  full  —  before  I  go." 


THE   END 


By  the  Author  of  "  The  Rim  of  the  Desert 


THE  STRAIN  OF  WHITE 


%  ADA  WOODRUFF  ANDERSON 
Illustrated.  12mo.  Cloth.  $1.30  net 


A  well-told  interesting  story. — New  York  Sun. 

The  story  of  a  splendid  girl,  Francesca,  half-Indian,  in  whom 
the  nobler  traits  of  both  white  and  Indian  had  been  devel- 
oped.—  Boston  Herald. 

Refreshingly  out  of  the  common  is  this  strong,  vivid  story  of 
the  Puget  Sound  country,  which  has  the  value  of  bringing  into 
fiction  certain  historic  conditions  in  that  country. — Brooklyn 
Daily  Times. 

.  .  .  She  shows  us  an  astonishingly  vivid  picture.  .  .  .  "The 
Strain  of  White  "  is  a  charming  success,  forceful,  pathetic,  and 
constructed  with  literary  and  technical  skill.  Perhaps  no  one 
but  a  woman  could  have  told  it  so  well  or  so  completely  have 
captured  our  sympathies  for  a  somewhat  difl&cult  heroine, 
Francesca,  a  girl  born  of  an  Indian  mother  and  a  white  father. 
...  It  is  a  beautiful  story,  redolent  with  pathos  and  with  the 
stem  heroism  of  the  day. —  San  Francisco  Argonaut. 


LITTLE,   BROWN   &    CO.,  Publishers 
34  Beacon  Stbeet,  Boston 


This  is  the  best  book  of  the  kind  that  we  have  ever  read.  — 
Bookseller,  Newsdealer,  and  Stationer,  New  York 


THE  HEART 
OF  THE  RED  FIRS 


By  ADA  WOODRUFF  ANDERSON 
Illustrated  by  Ch.  Grunwald.       12mo.      |1.30  net. 


A  stirring  pioneer  story.  ...  A  wholesome,  refresh- 
ingly original  novel  of  the  Puget  Sound  country.  —  Port- 
land Oregonian. 

Packed  with  incident  and  atmosphere  of  the  forests  and 
mines  of  the  most  northwesterly  of  the  United  States.  — 
Chicago  News. 

A  most  readable  story.  It  has  the  freshness  of  the 
woods  on  every  page,  and  has  nothing  of  the  stereotyped 
Western  story.  —  Denver  Republican. 

Her  art  is  good  in  all  lines :  in  the  portrayal  of  people 
and  their  mental  attitudes ;  in  making  the  local  scenery 
appear  before  our  eyes  in  its  wonderful  beauty  and 
grandeur  ;  in  translating  the  spirit  and  call  of  the  forests  ; 
in  interpreting  the  gambling  temptations  of  the  opium 
smugglers  and  their  desperate  risks  by  land  and  sea.  Her 
heroine  is  an  admirable  creation,  strong  and  beautiful  of 
body  and  mind,  resourceful,  charming.  —  Hartford  Courant. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &   CO.,  Publishers 
34  Beacon  Street,  Boston 


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